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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609176">A Lack of Proximity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR'>HowardR</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Night In The Woods (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, I Tried, Mental Health Issues, Neglect, Trust Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:20:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>45,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609176</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mae Borowski has just returned to her home town after a short stint in college, which went much worse then it should have.</p><p>She has never in her life met Beatrice Santello before now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mae Borowski/Bea Santello</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Strange Relationship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mae is incredibly bored, and so, finds some entertainment while Gregg is with his boyfriend.</p><p>Later, Gregg threatens someone. Is is heartwarming, or terrifying? Who knows!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Credit to Infinite Fall for making this wonderful game.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mae Borowski rolled her claws energetically, bouncing on the balls of her feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The problem with hanging out with Gregg was that it always left her with excess energy afterwards. And the much larger problem, at least for </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was that there was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing to do</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The air was stagnant and heavy around her from her gradually growing boredom, and the sky seemed to drip sun teasingly like coagulating blood. A beautiful day, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>waiting</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be spent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But ‘twas not to be. Gregg had to do something with his boyfriend, Angus, and given that Mae didn’t have a job or many friends…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was nothing to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wandered around towne centre, fingers twitching for activity. She hopped slightly on each step, a literal </span>
  <em>
    <span>bounce</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she began to do some freelance parkour just to avoid her ever-growing boredom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or rather, her ever-</span>
  <em>
    <span>expanding</span>
  </em>
  <span> boredom. The boredom felt like some great beast baring down on her, seeming heavier and heavier for every passed second where there was nothing to do. Rather than growing, it seemed to just… thicken. Like a curdling bowl of milk. Solidifying and weighing upon the air around her in some terrible facsimile of an eldritch god weighing upon the lives of the Aztecs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh. That had almost been poetic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there it went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the worst thing about this growing beast upon her was that even it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>growth</span>
  </em>
  <span> refused to be alarming. Rather, it was a steady overwhelming, just weighing dread upon her shoulders and doing nothing to excite her pulse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, she was bored.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was so bored she was thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>poetic</span>
  </em>
  <span> things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She needed to get something to do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screw it. I’ll just walk into buildings until I find something worth doing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...That was an idea. A terrible one, yes, but the worst ideas are usually the ones most interesting to execute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And if there was anything she needed right now, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>interest</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped into the building directly to her left with a bright, sunny grin. She only gave the most parting of glances to the sign on the window in white, bold letters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Ol’ Pickaxe</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could already feel that it was going to be a good day.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Beatrice Santello glanced up with half-lidded eyes from the brochure she was flipping through when she heard the half-dilapidated chime of the bell at the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of that chime still made her shiver, sometimes. Because she remembered the days where it rang off bright and cheery, like the glint of the sun waking you in the morning. But nowadays it sounded like it was just chugging along until it eventually fell off its hinges and finally had to be replaced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or not. It was hard to tell what Dad would sign off on. What he thought of as unneeded expense was tough to gauge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A young woman with a bright, sunny grin stepped in the doorway, eyes glinting with merriness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clearly a morning person,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bea thought distractedly, already looking down at her brochure as she chanted tiredly-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Allen wrenches twenty-percent off for the annual Harfest celebration. Come do your repairs now before a curse is laid upon yoooou.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cat in the doorway glanced at her monotone before smiling sunnily at her. Something in her shuddered oddly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl hopped onto the counter and balanced precariously on it, still grinning happily. The hairs on her head were standing on end, and her tail was flicking merrily back and forth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s an ‘Alan’ wrench?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Bea gave the girl a glare from under her eyelids, but she merely continued to give Bea what appeared to be a genuinely interested look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So naive as well as merry. Her least favorite type of person before she had her coffee. It was lucky she had already had her morning cigarette, otherwise this chick would probably be no more than a rust colored stain on the linoleum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Al</span>
  <em>
    <span>len</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she corrected, voice less monotone but more annoyed. “It’s those little l-shaped wrenches that you get in the assemble-yourself kits from </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> maintenance place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl furrowed her brow, before her expression cleared. “Oh yeah! Grandpa had a box full of ‘em when I was younger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea had already tuned the girl out. It was clear there was nothing interesting about her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys hiring?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced up with a look of complete surprise. The girl had now given up on balancing on the counter and was now sitting on it, giving her a look that clearly indicated that Bea had her </span>
  <em>
    <span>full</span>
  </em>
  <span> attention. Which meant she was either very good at pretending interest, really needed a job, or was subtly checking her out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She subtly backed away from the girl. If she was good at pretending, she was a liar, if she needed a job, she was a deadbeat, and if she was checking Bea out…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she was plain insane.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Either way, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a girl she wanted anywhere near her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you good at?” She asked, giving the girl a subtle once-over. She was small, yes, but stocky. Energetic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She probably had never worked a day in her life, judging by the obviously innocent and naive look, but she probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Discarding the craziness, something she did for a lot of employees, she may actually not be too bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she might work freelance for just a little bit of side-dough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Always a useful asset.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Messing stuff up!” The girl answered promptly. Bea gave her a flat look, and she caved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. You’re no fun. Uh, I like to think I’m pretty spry, I can navigate the town well… uh, I really </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> good at destroying things… and I won’t complain too much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea gave her a penetrating look. The girl didn’t quell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So naive, but not weak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we don’t have any steady jobs open at the moment, but I can give you ten bucks if you move a bag of rock salt for me.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Mae trudged home, bones aching and head light. She felt like her skull was full of helium and her body was lead, and her head was trying to float away against the weight of her body. Her steps were heavy as she opened the door, key rattling tiredly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled lightly as she realized that even Dad wasn’t up this late. The sun had set hours ago, easy, and her arms had felt like splitting long before that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was the fifty bucks worth it, Mae?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...The lack of boredom was.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh yes. If there was anything the endless torment of moving massive bags of rock salt insured, it was a distinct lack of boredom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People had said that boredom was a form of torture at college, but she was too busy putting herself through the torture of moving fifty-pound bags to be bored. Her arms may ache and her head may float, but at least the only weight on her shoulders was her slump.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh. That was almost poetic as well. It seems home has made you eloquent, Mae.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had also been more than happy to see the beginning of something resembling respect from that girl. When she had moaned and groaned in agony as the night wore on, the alligator had looked decidedly smug, but when she hadn’t said a single intelligent word of protest, hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make small talk or complain about the bag’s weight…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That girl had looked at her with something almost resembling </span>
  <em>
    <span>interest</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It still made her smile tiredly. The girl had looked floored when Mae had grinned brightly at her when she noticed the look of anything other than dismissal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl made her smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t really take the time to wonder why as she trudged up to her bed, not even giving her Witchdagger poster the usual goodnight before collapsing into a deep sleep. Her shoes were still on for the first time in years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t dream for the first time since Pastabilities closed.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bea glanced up from her book at the slightly eerie ring of the rusty bell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A large part of her wanted to scowl at the cat woman who had just entered the door, once again smiling sunnily. That grin had quite nearly been wiped from her face last night, and she had felt quite a bit of smug satisfaction from seeing that almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>teasingly</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy face finally cave into a look of exertion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was when she had expected the girl to quit. She had thought that the girl was just so naive she hadn’t realized how hard the job she was agreeing to was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl hadn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the second, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the second</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she felt anything other than a smug or hateful look on her face, the second she felt her muscles pull into a look of quiet confusion (at least, that’s what she told herself it was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>interest,</span>
  <span>) the girl had looked up and caught it. Like some radar for good emotion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the girl had suddenly started smiling brightly again. A smile that had dulled, but not left, as she hauled the last of the rock salt and gotten her pay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This girl was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausting</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She carefully ignored the small perk of interest (</span>
  <em>
    <span>confusion</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Confusion</span>
  </em>
  <span>) in her stomach, and gave the girl a flat look as she started talking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was here earlier today. Bea still had her morning smoke burning in her mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nobody but her ever came in this early.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” The cat girl greeted cheerily, merry smile still firmly in place. “I had a great night’s sleep. How about you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows in shock. Nobody had ever asked her about how much </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span> she got.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Bea stuttered, mentally thrown. “Fine, I guess.” Finally, her brain reorientated and she remembered that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t like this girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “What do you want?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl’s smile didn’t falter even at Bea’s obviously hostile tone. “I was wondering if you had any more work for me! And how you’re doing, obviously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked again at the girl. She wondered if she was being messed with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Judging by the mischievous sparkle in the girl’s eye, she wouldn’t be shocked. And yet, something in her stomach felt oddly warm in a way that wasn’t quite uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, this girl was cheerful. And god, how it pissed Bea off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She ignored the warmth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> work? After yesterday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl grinned wider. It would be slightly freaky if it wasn’t so-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her brain stuttered as she had to redact a thought for the first time in forever. If it wasn’t so </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said, wasn’t it? Well, technically I just asked if you had more work, but that certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>suggests…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She trailed off at Bea’s flat glare. It seemed the girl had at least enough sense to not keep rambling there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I need to get this girl to leave me alone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She really didn’t wonder why that was as she carefully repressed a wicked grin at the idea that had just popped into her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s always filing to be done in the back. I’ll give you twenty bucks if you sort those files in the cabinets.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl smiled at her again, and her stomach clenched strangely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s just too damn cheerful. Naive, spoiled, and cheerful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No wonder I hate her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She finally let that manic grin show through, though, as the young cat stepped into the back room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, won’t have to deal with her much longer anyways.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She genuinely had to repress and evil laugh at that one, probably accompanied by some gleefully villainous hand rubbing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s see how smiley she is after this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think about the cat girl again all day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not even a fleeting mental glimpse, Bea. Not even in the back of your mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It never occurred to Bea that specifically </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinking about her was a form of thinking about her.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bea stopped suddenly right before she put the key in the door, moon glistening on the dark linoleum in front of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cat girl.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Maybe you shouldn’t have </span>
  </em>
  <span>actually</span>
  <em>
    <span> forgotten her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea rushed on quiet steps to the back room, and reached for the doorknob, already prepared for the noisy groan the door was going to release.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Slam!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea jumped back and </span>
  <em>
    <span>did not squeak in terror, thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span> as the door was suddenly slammed open by the very object of her thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl’s hair was rustled, standing on end in some places and falling flat in others. Cat girl </span>
  <em>
    <span>herself</span>
  </em>
  <span> looked rustled, too, like she had just gotten out of bed. One ear was laying flat while the other was standing straight and twitching, and her feral yellow eyes glinted strangely in the moonlight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It really is a somewhat scary image</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bea thought, ignoring the odd spark in her stomach that had briefly flared. Not the terror; no, that she was accustomed to. This spark was something private, fleeting, something she had never felt before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And something she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> careful to not inspect too closely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet, despite the rustled look, cat girl smiled brightly the second she caught sight of Bea. Bea also ignored that same fleeting warmth she had felt in the morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heya!” Cat girl said happily. “Sorry I took so long. Your files are more out of whack than you realize! But I got ‘em fixed up and straightened out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a solid two seconds, Bea just stared at cat girl as she tried to wrap her head around the statement that had so many more layers, for a moment, for Bea than they seemed to have for cat girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The double edged, more </span>
  <em>
    <span>hauntingly</span>
  </em>
  <span> familiar sword of emotion pierced her stomach as she finally did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A combined feeling of </span>
  <em>
    <span>shock</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>guilt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She doesn’t realize I set her up for failure. She doesn’t know that I knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>just</span>
  <em>
    <span> how ‘out of whack’ my files were.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And she got the files organized.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stared at cat girl in pure shock, for the moment ignoring the rolling steel ball of guilt in her stomach. After a second, cat girl’s smiled began to dim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea shook off her shock, glaring at the girl as if it was somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault. “Nothing. You said you finally finished?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl somehow managed to look sheepish whilst grinning sunnily. Bea’s stomach shuddered again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Did a pretty good job, too, if I do say so myself.” She grinned, this time with a teasing edge. “And I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea let out a snort of pure surprise before hastily crushing it. The girl had the good grace to ignore it, though she grinned triumphantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stepped into the back room, turning on the light hastily. She hoped that the girl hadn’t noticed her haste when doing that, even as some part of her snidely berated her stupid childish superstition.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” said the girl suddenly behind her, making Bea quickly stifle the urge to jump twelve feet into the air. “Isn’t the fear of being alone in the dark actually the fear of </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> being alone in the dark?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea once again glared flatly at the girl, who grinned unrepentantly. Still, some part of her couldn’t help but rise to the bait and start the… well, de</span>
  <em>
    <span>bait</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hated that her mind was already thinking up a pun based on that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, but it only spawns if you are alone in the dark. So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> say that someone fears being alone in the dark because, if they are, they start to fear </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> being alone in the dark.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl blinked up at her, and Bea hastily averted her eyes, already searching for a change of subject. Unfortunately, it seemed cat girl wasn’t letting her off that easily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re clever.” For the first time, the girl’s voice wasn’t sunny and merry. It was almost… respectful. And, much more worrying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>affectionate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea manufactured a scoff, though she felt something </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too close to flattery begin to bloom in her chest. “Clearly not, otherwise I wouldn’t have left you to do this job. Given how long you took, you’re clearly unsuited for work that isn’t mindless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some part of her hated herself for diverting the subject by insulting the girl for doing work Bea had expected her to just quit on, even more so when she looked like she had been hit by a sledgehammer. Shocked, confused, and more than a little hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the expression was suddenly expertly masked by another grin, though Bea noticed that her eyes were slightly more flat than they had been before. The prickling feeling of guilt in her stomach grew stronger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet, she also felt the oddest, most twisted version of </span>
  <em>
    <span>relief</span>
  </em>
  <span> bloom in her stomach. Unlike the fluttering, almost butterfly-like bloom of flattery, this bloom felt like the slow creeping of a thick, black tentacle reaching to grab the leg of a sailor. Silent, almost intimate, and yet twisted and wrong. It almost hurt more than the guilt did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Sorry again about that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea suddenly wondered if, assuming cat girl had acted like this when she first walked into the shop, if she would’ve even noticed. Now, though, she could easily hear those little details that showed that the happiness was merely a mask for the emotion going on behind those walled-off eyes; the slight flatness of tone, the slight strain in the corners of the smile, the way her eyes blanked and greyed slightly. Bea had always thought the cheeriness of the cat girl was annoying, but suddenly, now that it was gone…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Cat girl responded just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch</span>
  </em>
  <span> too flatly. Her brain was screaming at her that this was a stupid idea, but…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do fish decide who’s going to eat the food on the end of a fishing pole?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl gave her a surprisingly cold look. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prickling guilt became stabbing, but she nonetheless finished what she had started.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They de</span>
  <em>
    <span>bait</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl furrowed her brow. Bea had to admit, it was a tough one to get, but…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl snorted. Then, she started to giggle, a sound like pellets of ice on mallets. It made the awful guilt in Bea’s stomach begin to melt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, the girl broke into a full-on laughing fit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny,” Bea said sardonically after a solid five seconds of breathless laughter and little giggles, intently ignoring the much more substantial feeling of relief now blooming in her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was all the more relieved when it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corners of her lips were twitching, but she ignored that, too. If she had taken the time to think about it, she wouldn’t have been able to answer why.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl’s giggles finally died off, but the bright smile was back with none of the strain as she answered, “Not really, it was awful, but your delivery was great. You really could be a good comedian, if you tried.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, she remembered why she had been able to do anything to avoid that affectionate tone and the flattery blooming once again in her stomach. The lip twitching was ruthlessly crushed, though the light blush that she hoped the girl couldn’t notice didn’t go away so easily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea diverted her attention to the filing cabinets, and noticed that the piles of files (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hah, that rhymed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, before the little, happy voice was crushed) that had been slowly growing for years on end had vanished. She opened the bottom cabinet on the leftmost filing cabinet, and her jaw dropped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Files. Lined up neatly and compactly. With dividers showing the year separating them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And judging by the dates on the dividers, the files did indeed go back three years. Ever since they had started running the shop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Three years</span>
  </em>
  <span> of files on everything from nail capacity to hiring compartments to nut and bolt comparison. From alloys to alleys to allen wrenches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Filling </span>
  <em>
    <span>five cabinets</span>
  </em>
  <span>. To the </span>
  <em>
    <span>brim</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sorted by month.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl was a miracle worker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’d I do?” The cat girl asked from behind her. To her shock, she didn’t hear even a hint of the smug pride that should’ve been there. Instead, the girl sounded almost… </span>
  <em>
    <span>anxious</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cared about Bea’s opinion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She carefully ignored the odd feeling in her chest, and turned to the girl, careful not to show any of the shock and gratitude she felt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Considering how long you were down here, I expected it to be well sorted. This isn’t bad. Not great, but not bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And to her shock, the cat girl actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>blushed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was light, but it was there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool. Can I get those twenty bucks now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked as she suddenly remembered the ridiculously low price she had placed on the untangling of three years worth of files. She drew her wallet out, and handed the girl fifty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here. You earned it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl’s eyes grew wide as she stared at the bills. Then, she grinned happily, and gave a merry wave and a parting, “Thanks!” As she rushed out the door on quick, padded feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea didn’t take the time to wonder why her eyes followed the girl until she was out of sight, on the long, lonely roads of Possum Springs, before closing up shop and heading home.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Mae’s smile died the instant she stepped inside her room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked tiredly past the Witchdagger poster, once again not even taking the time to greet it as she put the fifty bucks in her nightstand. Once again, she hadn’t had to talk to her Dad, since he had long since went on ahead to bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She should’ve been smiling. Just like she should’ve been smiling back in college.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily, she didn’t think the crocodile lady had noticed. She had probably noticed the strain after she had insulted Mae, but Mae thought she had done an admirable job of hiding it after she had laughed at that joke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, the laugh had been real. As had been the compliments. She had been glad, and more than willing to smooth over the little bump they had had and pretend that the insult hadn’t felt like a knife in her stomach, twisting slowly for every moment she had spent with the girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had really thought they had been getting along.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tossed and turned for only a moment before giving up on sleep as a lost cause. She sat up, crossing her legs and putting her laptop in her lap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hey dude</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She waited impatiently for a moment before typing again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>You awake?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To her relief, she only had to wait another moment before-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>i am now. Wassup?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae grinned happily as she hastily replied, unable to dredge up any guilt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Oh. Sorry</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>dont worry bout it. whats goin on? </b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So, theres this girl, right</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>is this gonna be the cole chat again? :I</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae smiled tiredly even as she answered quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No. This is different</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>...rrrright.</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae chuckled, but still typed out a quick response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Seriously! This is important, so just suht it and listen</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She winced a little at ‘suht’, but forewent correcting herself. Gregg wouldn’t care one lick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>aight. shoot</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rubbed her eyes for a moment, wondering how to phrase it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So, theres this girl</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared at the screen, wondering how to put it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>…*plays jeoprady music*</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Shut it! I just need to think how to phrase it…</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So, yesterday, I didnt have anything to do</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So I decided to just walk into the next building I saw and see if there was anything there to entertian me</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So I walked into this place called ‘the ol pickaxe’</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And I moved some bags of rock</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>sounds great, but why you tellin me?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Theres more</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>But the girl at the counter, this crocodile lady</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>She was like…</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Cool.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>cool?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Cool. So, I came back the next day</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>this is realy starting to sound like the cole story</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I said shut!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>But when I came back</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared at the screen, once again wondering how to phrase it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>...the tenskion is killin me</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae couldn’t help but laugh again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I thought we were getting along, but</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>...yesss?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...She basicaly called me an idiot</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>oh.</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yes. Oh.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>so u left?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No. And see, this is the weird part</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>She like</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Told a joke afterwards</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>...oh no?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No, it wasnt a bad thing</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>It was like</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>She was trying to cheer me up</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And then she complimented me after she saw the work id done</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So I dont know what to think</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>well, i think i see whats goin on</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>What?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>your obsessing</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae groaned tiredly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Im going to bed</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>no realy dud. just chil out. i bet theres nothin to wory about</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...Yeah, youre probably right</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Im going to bed</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Gnight</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>nite</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae smiled gently as she put her laptop away again, laying back easily. Maybe Gregg was right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea glanced up tiredly from the brochure. She swore, that cat girl was showing up earlier and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her brain actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed a step</span>
  </em>
  <span> as she was confronted with the sight of a young male fox standing at the counter. He was leaning casually against it, looking down at her with eyes that were oddly steely. He was wearing a pristine, shiny leather jacket and looked to have a switchblade in his pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” She asked, staring at him. People like him rarely walked into her shop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fox gave her a tight, strained smile. “Hello, I’m Greggory Lee. I don’t suppose that you’ve been interacting with a young cat recently? Female, a bit of a tomboy, likely incredibly cheerful?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea began to feel an odd sense of foreboding as she stared at the fox in confusion, suddenly heightening the amount of danger he posed mentally. Maybe he brought the switchblade for a reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Yes, I have. Why do you ask?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Greggory’ refrained from answering, instead smiling with his eyes while rapidly losing the fake smile on his face. Bea subtly put herself into a fighting stance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y’know,” he said thoughtfully, “friends, I think, have one job above all others. To keep their friend from being hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fox’s wandering gaze suddenly locked onto her’s, and his eyes were steely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The girl you’ve been hiring? She’s my friend. And she thinks you’re…” he scowled at her, which made her widen her eyes in shock. His face didn’t seem made for scowling. It seemed to be made for manic grins. But he twisted and disfigured it into a scowl anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cool</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked at him, but the fox was already moving on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When you insulted her… she’s good at bottling things up. Things like, say… hurt. So let me tell you a little secret, just between you and me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned forward into her ear, close enough that she could count the hairs on his head. Her heart thumped a rhythm that seemed to scream at her “Run! Hurry! Run! Hurry! </span>
  <em>
    <span>RUN</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hurt my friend again,” he whispered, drawing the switchblade and letting it open. He ran it almost sensually down her cheek as he whispered harshly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And I’ll gut you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ring!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a flash, the switchblade had vanished and the fox was standing upright again. Bea glanced around him, making sure to keep him in her peripheral vision, and saw cat girl standing in the entranceway and staring at the fox in shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gregg?! What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg gave the manic grin his face seemed so suited to. “I was just taking a look at the girl you were so invested in, is all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From this distance, it was a bit hard to tell, but Bea thought she saw cat girl light up with a fiery red blush. She saw Gregg’s grin widen; or rather, as he was turned around, she saw his teeth glint in her peripherals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A glint that was almost eerily similar to the glint of the switchblade she was keeping one eye on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just in case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl rolled her eyes at Gregg, jerking her thumb to the door. Though she couldn’t see it, she could imagine well the manic grin on his face as he followed the non-verbal order and sauntered out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look back, but his fingers ran over his knife one last time as he left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second the door closed, Bea let out a breath she hadn’t been aware that she was holding. In her preoccupation, she didn’t notice that cat girl did the same thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She did catch the tired smile that cat girl sent her, though, eyes half-lidded lazily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope he didn’t harass you </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much.” The girl said as she sauntered forward easily, once again hopping up onto the counter and turning to look at her. “He’s a bit, uh… </span>
  <em>
    <span>excitable</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea unconsciously roved her eyes over cat girl, taking in minute details that gave her just a bit of an odd sensation. Like something was </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl was wearing her usual well-tied boots, thick over her feet with light orange-yellow leather. Her eyes traced the black pants, before reaching that orange ‘zero’ shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was cat girl’s face that made her realize what the problem was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl was a morning person. Constantly chipper no matter how early, always ready for a new day. But today, the red dyed hair that stuck up from the top of her head was lying despondently flat, and one of her ears was laid backwards. Though those yellow eyes with red highlights seemed oddly contented locked onto her, they were lazy and half-lidded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea let her eyes latch onto cat girl’s for only a moment longer before hastily averting them. That lazy content just didn’t… fit with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you get any sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question slipped from her mouth without input, and the second it did, it was everything she could do not to slap a hand over her mouth. Cat girl seemed surprised as well, if the eyebrow raising was any indicator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea rushed to fix her mistake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re planning on working today, then I won’t have you falling asleep on the job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl’s eyebrows went back down, though her eyes sparkled with newfound energy as she answered. Bea wanted to groan when she saw it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I won’t. I just had a nightmare, is all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Bea could make a fool of herself again, cat girl hopped off the counter happily. When she landed, her eyes were wide again and her ears were both up and twitching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what do you have for me today?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Why did I sign up for this again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea couldn’t help the snort that rolled so naturally off her tongue, and, unlike before, she was unable to bring herself to follow it up with some form of ridicule aimed at the cat girl sitting at the back of the boat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Money?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Bea felt almost gratified when cat girl snorted in turn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, but aren’t there easier ways to get money than riding subterranean tunnels to your impending doom?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While cat girl wasn’t exactly the most eloquent of creatures, the term ‘subterranean’ could not better describe the tunnel they were riding down. Moss hung from the ceiling and clung to the walls like paint, and the air was damp and stagnant. Graffiti painted nearly every surface not covered in moss  in either small signatures or massive portraits, and the chittering sounds of distant creatures scuttled and burrowed in the cold autumn air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea gripped the wheel tighter. She was surprised that the light cat girl was aiming and scaring off bats with was so steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If there was one thing she didn’t have cat girl pinned as, it was steady-handed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably, but you also came along for my sparkling wit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was glad that cat girl couldn’t see the instant widening of Bea’s eyes as the sarcastic comment once again slipped from her mouth without her input.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But cat girl only reacted by a short bout of twinkling laughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, there is that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence hung in the stagnant air for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light cat girl was holding instantly dropped, and she heard the boat groan slightly as the girl stood and hopped forward. The boat groaned more heavily as it hit shore, along with a long scraping noise as the metal slid across the surface of the garbage island they had just arrived at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re we looking for again, captain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea gave cat girl a flat look. “I’m not a captain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Co-captain, then. What are we looking for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea sighed, but forewent trying to convince cat girl again. “The storage key?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea shook her head tiredly with yet another sigh as cat girl hopped onto the island.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You coming?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m staying on the boat. You search.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl pouted. “You’re no fun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never had my existence so well summarized.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl grinned at her. “I’ve always been good at that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl squinted at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you being sarcastic?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea grinned. “Never.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only after cat girl grinned back before beginning her search that it occurred to Bea that she wasn’t friends with cat girl. That she didn’t like cat girl. That she didn’t have friendly banter with cat girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. Though there was an odd, squirming sensation in her stomach that was sickeningly familiar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything?” She called out, in an attempt to avoid it. Like some monster swimming in her stomach acid, its tentacles reaching out and stretching her stomach walls…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No key,” cat girl answered just a foot to the left, making Bea jump, “but I found a cool bat! Like, the baseball kind, not the vampire kind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While it may have made Bea snort that cat girl called the animal ‘the vampire kind’ of bat, she was too busy calming her heart, still racing as it was from the unexpected proximity of cat girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus! You gave me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>heart attack</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl grinned for a moment, before suddenly widening her eyes to a comically overblown level and putting her hand on her heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aww, do I make youw heawt wace, cwocodwile?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea rolled her eyes. “No, you make my heart fail and die. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Big </span>
  </em>
  <span>difference.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl dropped the fake innocent look and grinned at Bea again, who was happy to note that that odd squirming feeling was weakening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, as cat girl climbed into the boat again, she noticed that it never completely went away.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Remind me one more time-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Money.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, money.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trip had been a complete bust. Well, the trip had been a bust as far as Bea was concerned. Cat girl, on the other hand, was only ever pessimistic when she had to hold a light steady. Which happened to mean staying still, something cat girl was clearly not suited for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, cat girl seemed quite happy with the small hoard of “cool stuff” she had amassed, including the aforementioned baseball bat, a trumpet that needed more than a bit of cleaning, a football helmet, and a particularly shiny hatchet. Bea had to admit, while the stuff didn’t appeal to her, they certainly suited her companion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The companion she had been gradually becoming friends with this whole trip. Though she didn’t think of it quite in those words; rather, she thought of it as, ‘the cat girl I’m starting to be less annoyed by and more bored by’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Same thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who throws away a whole carrousel?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear, you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to get over that damn carrousel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was big! And cool! Who would throw that thing away, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A retired clown?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat girl snorted. Silence hung in the air again for a moment, the fact that they both had no idea how much longer the ride back was going to last weighing heavily on them both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea raised her eyebrows, though she didn’t take her eyes off the river. That had sounded almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>hesitant</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which, coming from cat girl, was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>miracle</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boat groaned slightly as Bea unconsciously let go of the wheel in surprise, before quickly latching back on. To her surprise, though, cat girl didn’t berate her for it, or even laugh. She just adjusted the light and stayed silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s your name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither one of them knew the other’s name, and Bea had been more than okay with that. If they didn’t know each other’s names, than it would never be anything more than a work relationship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That squirming feeling in her stomach which had been fading during the trip came back full force. She knew that it wanted her to shut cat girl down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some part of her didn’t want to. Some part that, at least for now, was as strong as the kraken in her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...What’s yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They rode in silence for another moment, the light never wavering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Margaret. But everyone calls me Mae.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Mae.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The name tasted odd on her tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I’m Beatrice. But everyone calls me Bea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t see cat girl, but Bea knew that if she turned to look, Mae would be grinning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Bea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t have to.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I gotta confess - I love this story. Perhaps most of any of my stories so far.</p><p>Ever since that scene out by the lake in the game, I wanted to write a fic where Mae and Bea don't have any proximity - and here it is. Whaddya think, eh?</p><p>And, if you're going to tell me what you think in the comments, anyway, might as well take a vote - Gregg threatening Bea. Heartwarming, or terrifying?</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Squirming and Sparks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mae might just be a bit obsessed, and Bea isn't completely stable.</p><p>And, suddenly, there's a plot!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Credit to Infinite Fall, who, as a side note, have a great development team name.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bea left cat girl (<em> Mae </em> , she reminded herself. <em> Her name is Mae </em> ,) on the side of the street when she told Bea to do just that. The drive home was more than a little slower then the drive to drop Mae off, as Bea was too focused on <em> not </em> over-analyzing their interactions in the tunnel.</p><p> </p><p>The trees towered over the long, grey streets of Possum Springs when they weren’t populated with dense city. Bea wasn’t sure which she wanted to hate more - the bustling metropolis, or the lonely woods, creatures chirping and scuttling just out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>She just hated the whole place, she decided. Every corner of Possum Springs - she despised it all.</p><p> </p><p>The people were often sick or crazy, and all of them were untrustworthy. The streets were disgusting, the history was being overwritten with apartment complexes and twisted plays, the trains rattled every night and kept her up too long, the few parts not overrun by city smelled of animal shit and just a whiff of blood, and that abandoned glass factory gave her the <em> creeps </em>, man.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I hate this place. I hate it all. Every person in it is awful. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And, instantly, her mind was, indeed, flooded with awful people. The men working at her shop were all deadbeats and/or perverted, Dad had fell too far into his own lethargy to care about anything, strangers were often terrible smelling and without manners, and anyone who she might have been friends with had proven themselves -</p><p> </p><p><em> Untrustworthy </em>.</p><p> </p><p>She hated everything and everyone in this town.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> God, she hoped she would someday get out of here. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And, it was only when she finally stopped the car at her house that she thought, again, of cat girl.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> My name is Margaret, but everyone calls me Mae. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She layed on her bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking of the day she had just had. The tunnel ride had been slow, boring, lethargic, and tiring. Just like everything she had to do to keep the store running.</p><p> </p><p>Except…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No, but I found this cool bat! Like, the baseball kind, not the vampire kind. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She tried to shake off the memories. For some reason, though, they didn’t quite shake. They stuck to the corners of her mind, clinging like tar.</p><p> </p><p>That trip had been <em> awful </em> . She hadn’t even gotten the storage key! She had ridden through those tunnels for <em> nothing </em> ! And she had had to put up with that <em> damn </em> cat girl the entire -</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mae. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her own head suddenly went silent at the thought.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her name is Mae. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bea closed her eyes, and tried her hardest to shake off the trip once again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What’s your name? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It must be something about that voice, she decided. That voice that was so <em> annoyingly </em> cheery, so <em> despicably </em> happy, so <em> grossly </em> sunny, <em> all the time </em>. It grated on her ears something fierce.</p><p> </p><p>That’s why she kept thinking about her. She was just so <em> grating, </em> so much so that she ended up sticking in Bea’s mind far after the annoyance had ended.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That’s it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She really did hate cat girl.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Hey, crocodile, check this out! It’s a carrousel!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea glanced up despite herself, looking around the wheel she had been blankly staring at. They had gone through two islands already, each one having a souvenier that cat girl wanted to keep, but no storage key. Bea herself, though, had left the garbage exploring to the cat girl. So far, she hadn’t once left the boat. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When Bea glanced around the wheel, she saw that, indeed, cat girl was standing next to an entire carrousel. It looked vaguely familiar, but Bea didn’t try to track the feeling down and pin it to any memory. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She had learned, long ago, that going down memory lane was an exercise in futility. And depression. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And she certainly wasn’t going to end up like Dad. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Uh… cool? I don’t really care about trash.” Bea said tiredly, once more inspecting the wheel and waiting for cat girl to move on. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “But… it’s a carrousel! Who throws away a carrousel?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Someone, obviously,” Bea drawled, cracking open a brochure. Cat girl went silent at that - until, of course, she spoke up from directly in front of Bea, making Bea flinch a touch. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Come on, get up and check it out! It’s a carrousel, everyone loves them!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea gave cat girl her best glare, but she didn’t quell. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “No, thank you.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>“Come on! You’ve been sitting there that whole time!</em> <em> And sitting down sucks! Let’s go check out the carrousel, eh?”</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea’s glare became much, much colder. She didn’t hire this girl to have her nag Bea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’ll stay here, thanks.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Cat girl leaned against the boat front as Bea turned back to the brochure, pouting and staring up at her imploringly. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea ignored her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Until she suddenly pulled the brochure down, forcing Bea to look at the pouting yellow eyes with a slight red tint. Bea actually had to repress the urge to scowl at her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Come onnnn…” cat girl whined, pouting up at Bea. “You need to stretch your legs!” She exclaimed, standing up and spreading her arms. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> As if that would prove her point. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m fine.” Bea looked back at her brochure. “Unlike you, I can sit still for two goddamn minutes.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Don’t say that.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea glanced up, more than a bit surprised, at the sudden serious shift of cat girl’s voice. Cat girl wasn’t pouting anymore, fakely or otherwise, and was instead staring off into the distance. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She… she actually looked thoughtful. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> For some reason, it made Bea’s stomach squirm. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Say what?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Don’t say goddamn. I know god well enough to know he might actually go through with it.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was something about that face, composed into complete seriousness, maybe even… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And then, before Bea could pin down that horrible blankness on cat girl’s face, it vanished. Cat girl turned back to Bea, grinning happily, blankness completely gone, and said cheerily - </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “And besides, sitting down is no fun! Come on, stretch your scaly limbs, girl!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea stared at cat girl for a moment, unable to help it. It was the second time she had ever seen cat girl anything less then cheerful, and Bea found that, in both instances, it gave her the same sensation. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She was just glad that, this time, she didn’t have to drag cat girl out of it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She ignored the fact that, last time, she had caused it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea shook off the sensation that came with a cold cat girl, and rolled her eyes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “Sitting down isn’t fun </em> <span class="u"><em>for you</em></span><em>. For me, it’s the perfect opportunity to read, so…” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Uh huh, uh huh, yes, interesting and all, but you’re completely wrong about everything. Come on, get up!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Cat girl grabbed Bea’s arm, and, before she had a chance to shake cat girl off, Bea found herself being hauled to her feet with surprising strength, considering the stature of the furry critter who was now grinning mischievously at her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She was dragged insistently onto the garbage island, despite her attempts to dig her heels into the ground and pull away from cat girl’s strong grip on her forearm. And, soon enough, she was forced in front of a giant carrousel, now looming down at her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Look at this! Who throws something this great away?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea glared her fiercest glare at cat girl, but cat girl merely grinned unrepentantly. She sighed resignedly, and looked up at the carrousel with a raised eyebrow. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “...I don’t know. Maybe they just couldn’t afford to keep it running.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Cat girl grinned triumphantly. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Maybe, crocodile. Maybe.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bea shook her head with increasing insistence, trying and failing to get that damn smiley furball out of her head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> God, she’s annoying. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And yet, as she finally fell into a fragile slumber, a fond smile she never felt tugging at her lips sparkled in her eyes.</p><hr/><p>Mae entered her room after a short walk with a spring in her step.</p><p> </p><p>“Good evening, Jonathan!” She said dramatically, bowing with great grandeur at her Witchdagger poster. “You’ll never guess what happened!”</p><p> </p><p>The poster just loomed threateningly over her.</p><p> </p><p>“Probably because you can’t talk!” She said in the same tone of voice, before bouncing onto her bed. It groaned tiredly at her, and she grinned down at it.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, don’t be so morose, bed! I had the <em> greatest </em> day today.”</p><p> </p><p>She flopped back onto the invitingly cool mattress, arms spread, and sighed contentedly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The girl’s name was Bea.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What a great name. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Bea,” she sighed happily, smiling a dopey smile at the attic ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea, Bea, Bea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She sat up energetically, not feeling an ounce of sleepiness despite the fact that the moon hung heavily over her attic window. She opened up her computer, and typed quickly, one leg bouncing.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>The Bea situation is going well</b>
</p><p> </p><p>A moment later, she got her response.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>the ‘bea situation’?</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>The crocodile. Her name is Bea</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>oh</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>She blinked at her computer, brow furrowed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Is something wrong?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>no</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...I dont believe you</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>uh</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>well</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>me and angus r kinda</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>goin through some stuf</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Oh</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>yeah. oh</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...Dude, my good mood is ruined</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>What happened?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Mae stared at her computer, foot bouncing gone, for a long minute. The light from the monitor shone harshly, her cheery background at odds with the news she had just been delivered.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>u tell me about the bea situation 1st</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Mae stared at the message, and reached forward. She clacked out a few letters, paused, and erased them, staring at the computer again. But it was just another moment before she cracked, and typed out a message.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Ok</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So I went back to that store today</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And apparently Bea had to go sailing, of all things</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>bea is a pirate?</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Mae grinned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No, unfortunately. She wouldnt even let me call her captain</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>But anyway</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>She had to go through that, uh, fake river thing in the tunnel below towne centre</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>You know, the</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>uh</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>the name is on the tip of my tongue</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>canal?</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yes! That!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>She had to search some garbage islands in the canal</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>For a key to a locked up storage area</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>...cool?</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yes, it is!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Because that means I got to sail with her!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And get cool trash stuff!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>hah. awesome</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>That it was, Gregg.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>That it was.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And plus, it meant that it was just me and her</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>All alone</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>...this sounds like the start of a smutty romance story</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>For reasons Mae tried not to think about, she felt a fiery red blush light up her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No, it wasnt romantiv</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>*romantic</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>But it was</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Mae stared at the screen, wondering how to put it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...Fun</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And we finally learned each others names!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So good times all around</b>
</p><p> </p><p>She stopped there, smiling a bit. The smile died, though, when she remembered the problem at hand.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>…</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>can we just like</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>not talk about it?</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>i dont wanna</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>…</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>u know</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>The screen was unresponsive for a moment, before Mae leaned forward.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sure dude</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>When was the last time you played Demontower? I started playing again a bit ago, and I cant get past that guy who teleports across the pentagram and fires fire at you</b>
</p><p> </p><p>And so, they ended up talking long into the night. Neither of them mentioned Angus, or how Gregg’s day went. They talked of meaningless things, and carefully avoided the issue they both knew was staring them in the face.</p><p> </p><p>Bea, though, did come up again.</p><p> </p><p>Once or twice.</p><p> </p><p>But <em> no </em>, Gregg, she was not obsessed.</p><p> </p><p>She just…</p><p> </p><p>Really liked the girl’s name, okay?</p><hr/><p>Greggory Lee thought himself, above all, a person who could find the humour in any situation.</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘It really isn’t hard,’ </em> he would tell people, <em> ‘to find what’s funny about this. And, when you do, you’ll find it much easier to get through.’ </em></p><p> </p><p>In his early days, he would get through each hour by finding something funny about it. His sandwich bread did, indeed, taste like sand. Or his lemonade actually didn’t aid him one bit.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t easy, but he prided himself on it purely because it wasn’t easy. He could always find something to laugh about, to smile about, even when there was nobody to talk to. Even on his down days. Even when he had been all alone.</p><p> </p><p>Then, he had met Casey Hartley. And finding something funny in every situation was much easier.</p><p> </p><p>Probably because the situations they got into were… well, let’s say, easy to find the humor in.</p><p> </p><p>Smashing fluorescent lights was one of the <em> better </em> things they did. They stole, they robbed, they set things on fire, they drove Casey’s parents insane, and they were the terrors of the town.</p><p> </p><p>They, really, met Mae Borowski on a whim.</p><p> </p><p>They had been eating their pizza at Pastabilities, when she had sauntered in. She had the world’s fakest fake mustache on, and she had went straight up to the counter and cried out in a horrible fake british accent,</p><p> </p><p>“Sir! Please send your most unarmed delivery man to deliver my pizza tomorrow!”</p><p> </p><p>And then she had just… left.</p><p> </p><p>Truly, it was a great display. One that both Casey and Gregg had thought the work of a master mischief maker.</p><p> </p><p>But it had been Casey’s decision to befriend her. After that, they had become practically inseparable.</p><p> </p><p>Mostly, they had Casey to thank for everything good in their lives, but Gregg could only thank Mae for introducing him to Angus.</p><p> </p><p>Gregg did his best to shake off the old, tired images.</p><p> </p><p>He could find a silver lining to every stormcloud. Something good in every bad situation.</p><p> </p><p>There was nothing good about the fight he was having with Angus.</p><p> </p><p>Gregg closed his laptop with a slow, tired movement. Talking with Mae had been the only good thing to happen today. She had been cheerful, and funny, and was having a damn great time with Bea. She was having a good life.</p><p> </p><p>Mae always managed to cheer him up a bit. She was his crutch. His standing stone. She was stable where he wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, Mae had her own problems. But her problems were… stable. His were…</p><p> </p><p>Not that.</p><p> </p><p>But, then again, he may end up having a slightly more sturdy standing stone, if this Bea situation continued as it was. He and Mae would always be best friends, though.</p><p> </p><p>Angus was… not a friend, exactly. And Casey…</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t like thinking about Casey.</p><p> </p><p>He may be able to find the funny in any situation, but…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He didn’t even warn us. Didn’t email us. Didn’t message us. No letters. Not even a goodbye note. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It still hurt, a bit.</p><p> </p><p>But Gregg understood, nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But, that’s just… not like Casey. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He always talked about hopping a train. How is it not like him? </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> He always talked about hopping a train </em> with us <em> , </em> he reminded himself. <em> He always said he would never go without me and Angus. Mae said she would miss us like hell, but she has a life here. A family. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Surely, wouldn’t he at least have…? </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Obviously not </em> , said a snide part of his brain. <em> If he ‘would have’, then where’s this letter, huh genius? </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Or message. Or email. I’m not picky. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He scowled heavily. It felt wrong on his face.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But… doesn’t Casey deserve at least a parting thought? Don’t we owe him enough to at least… check? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Gregg opened his computer, and put in the password. His heart twisted as he did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> AngusRulez </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He tapped Casey’s icon, and typed out a message. He pressed enter before he could lose his nerve.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>If we’re friends, you’ll respond to this.</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>You always said we would leave together.</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>But you didn’t even leave a message.</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>Why?</b> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>For the first time in years, he used proper grammar.</p><hr/><p>Bea woke up, eyes snapping open.</p><p> </p><p>Most people, upon waking up, groaned and rolled and burrowed themselves in their blankets. Bea sat up sharply, eyes half-lidded, and stood slowly.</p><p> </p><p>Her knees cracked, and her muscles groaned. Her mouth tried to pry open to groan with them, but she fought down the urge and slipped on some clothes. She slid into a brown leather jacket, and the zipper glinted with the harsh morning sunlight. She reached into her pocket, sighing with relief when she found that her pack of cigarettes was already open and waiting. She lit one, movements practiced, and inhaled deeply.</p><p> </p><p>Instantly, her headache lessened, and the lethargy in her limbs and the strain against her anger drew back a bit. The embers fell onto the ground, light orange against the dark, dull blue walls of her room, and she took another heavy drag.</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, smoke escaping her lips, and slipped on some shoes, tying them smoothly. She walked out, grabbing her keys from the counter, without any breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t take a shower. She didn’t brush her teeth. She was late. She sniffed experimentally at her armpit, and grimaced, but started the car anyway.</p><p> </p><p>She just didn’t have time.</p><p> </p><p>It was only when she was on the road that the thought popped into her head, unbidden.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I wonder if Mae is dropping by again today. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She scowled at the unwelcome thought, some part of her squirming uncomfortably.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What does it matter? She’s only there for the cash, just like you’re only there to run the store. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The squirming in her gut soothed slightly, and she reached forward, towards the cup sitting in her cup holder.</p><p> </p><p>She hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>And then she drank quickly from it, feeling warmth flood her as the amber liquid slid down her throat. It didn’t even sting anymore.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Would Mom want this? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The thought was quiet enough that Bea easily ignored it, pushing away the slight rush of guilt.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I do hope Mae got some decent sleep last night. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She drove down the road for two seconds (in her opinion, two seconds too long) before the thought registered, and she managed to crush it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> After all, we can’t have her falling asleep on the job. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>But the squirming in her gut had returned full force, and she knew it wasn’t even a little convinced by the explanation.</p><p> </p><p>But she could ignore squirming. She had dealt with worse.</p><p> </p><p>She unlocked the store, grabbing the correct key by second nature, glad to note that her headache had abated. She hopped behind the counter with a single, smooth movement, and sat down, grabbing a brochure as she did.</p><p> </p><p>It never occurred to her that she had never before thought about anything, much less a single person, before opening the store. And, in hindsight, it was probably good that it didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe, in just a short time, you’ll see why.</p><hr/><p>The bell above the door chimed. Bea had to repress a groan as it did, (she had been on a good page) and instead glanced up.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t wonder why the urge to groan vanished when she saw Mae step into the store.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Bea!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why did I tell her my name again? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It rolled off Mae’s tongue too naturally, like it was the easiest thing in the world, and Bea felt the familiar desire to scowl at her. It was that she was grinning too much, Bea decided - like she enjoyed nothing more then stepping into Bea’s store and greeting her.</p><p> </p><p>“Margaret.” She acknowledged, looking back down at her brochure. She didn’t get to see Mae’s grin widen as a result.</p><p> </p><p>“Whatcha readin’?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea looked up at the now leaning cat girl, and scowled at her. Mae simply grinned back at her.</p><p> </p><p>“A brochure.”</p><p> </p><p>“About what?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>“The history of Possum Springs.”</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t quite sure why the squirming sensation in her gut grew at that, or why she was so hesitant to say it. It wasn’t like it was an important fact or anything. But there was something about, maybe not the fact itself, but this interaction, that was… unnerving.</p><p> </p><p>She tried to ignore it, though.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re coming in a bit late today.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea had to repress an eyebrow raise as she felt the fact roll off her tongue. It felt so… natural. So <em> unstrained </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Every word she had to say was guarded, and carefully thought out. But, suddenly, she could put her finger on what was wrong with this interaction.</p><p> </p><p>It was too <em> easy. </em></p><p> </p><p>And Bea, for reasons she couldn’t yet understand, felt unnerved by that fact.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Actually, this time, it was intentional. Uh, I was wondering what time you got off.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea let her eyebrows raise this time.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this the worst attempt at seduction ever?”</p><p> </p><p>To Bea’s shock, Mae actually <em> blushed. </em> It was just the lightest touch of it, but it was there - and, in the slightly later afternoon light, it was easy to catch.</p><p> </p><p>“I, uh, I don’t actually - uh, I’m not - not that there’s anything wrong with - ”</p><p> </p><p>“Gay. The word you’re looking for is gay.” Bea said, with relish. There was something about seeing the constantly cheery cat girl <em> flustered </em> that gave her a thrill.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Uh, I’m not that.” Mae said, smiling sheepishly.</p><p> </p><p>There was something wrong, Bea thought, with the spark that lit in her gut when Mae flashed that sheepish smile. She stashed away that thought for later, though, and instead lost the malicious grin that had spread across her face when she teased the cat, who was now scratching their neck nervously.</p><p> </p><p>“But I <em> was </em> wondering when you got off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Bea asked, genuinely confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go get some supper. I noticed that I came in around lunch yesterday and that we went home after supper, so, uh, I wanted to make up for making you miss a meal or two.”</p><p> </p><p>“My treat,” Mae finished, a small smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>Bea squinted at her, though the squirming in her gut was reaching a dangerous level. The tentacles of some beast were climbing the walls of her stomach, sliding smoothly and making her feel <em> wrong. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Are you <em> sure </em> this isn’t a terrible attempt at seduction? ‘Cause it <em> really </em> feels like it right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae rolled her eyes this time, and Bea felt strange when she noticed an odd flash of emotion in her stomach. It was easily drowned out, though, by the slowly climbing squirming sensation that was now clogging her neck.</p><p> </p><p>“No, it isn’t. Really. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t missing any meals, is all.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea opened her mouth, and felt the sensation of squirming grip her vocal cords.</p><p> </p><p>She hated herself when she let it.</p><p> </p><p>“I actually had an early lunch, and I heated up some leftovers before I went to bed. Last night, I mean. So you don’t owe me anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that all?” She finished coldly. “Because I have work to do.”</p><p> </p><p>She felt a familiar sensation curl up in her stomach as Mae’s smile vanished. That same dark, twisted relief she had felt when she had insulted Mae after the girl had sorted her files. But, this time, she let the feeling have free reign, and found that, when she stopped trying to fight it, it almost felt… right.</p><p> </p><p>Or at least, <em> safe. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Uh, okay. Sorry for bothering you.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae slid her hands into her pockets, face carefully blank, and turned around.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae glanced around at her call, and Bea felt the words leave her mouth without input. By the time her lips were forming the words, she finally realized what they were, and the squirming feeling in her chest tried to choke them before they left.</p><p> </p><p>And failed.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you get a proper night of sleep last night?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae turned around fully, brow furrowed.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“You said you have nightmares.”</p><p> </p><p>When her voice came out almost sounding <em> concerned, </em> Bea went to correct her mistake.</p><p> </p><p>“I just wanted to make sure that you won’t pass out next time you walk in my store. The paperwork would be, just… a nightmare.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s eyebrows rose. And then, she grinned wickedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you just make a pun?”</p><p> </p><p>When Bea realized that she had, indeed, made a pun, she groaned. Mae’s grin merely widened.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I believe my work here is done, Ms. Beatrice. You have officially made your second pun in my presence, and so, I declare my mission of corrupting you into becoming a comedian successful.”</p><p> </p><p>She sauntered out the door, bell chiming behind her.</p><p> </p><p>Bea stared at the closed door for a moment, before deciding she didn’t want to think about the interaction she had just had. She opened her brochure, and got back to reading.</p><p> </p><p>But the words blurred on the page, and her mind kept wandering to the image of the wicked grin that Mae had grinned at her.</p><p> </p><p>And, low in her stomach, another spark flew and died.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So - I don't love this as much as the first chapter, but I needed to do a bit of set up here for some stuff later.</p><p>This fic is almost entirely character-driven, and, obviously, is highly focused on Mae and Bea and their growing relationship. But, in this, you may have noticed that, when we switched to Gregg, we got - some plot!</p><p>I know, it came out of left field for me too, but maybe we will actually have some focus on an actual plot. But, mostly, just some nice character drama with our leads.</p><p>Now - can you see now why 'trust issues' is one of the tags? I'm trying to make sure it isn't overly obvious, but I do think that I did it pretty damn well in this chapter.</p><p>We will see soon that not having grown up with Mae and not having support when her mother died is going to have some effect on Bea. Hopefully it will be some pretty good character drama - hopefully.</p><p>-Howard</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Interlude: We Owe Casey Hartley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We learn something important in a flashback, and the plot really begins.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Very short and kinda outta nowhere, but I couldn't get this outta my head.</p><p>And plus, I like this as a twist on the original game.</p><p>Credit to Infinite Fall.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>It really isn’t shocking that they did what they did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were best friends. Well, they and Gregg. They took comfort in each other. They were each others standing stones. They supported each other. They even loved each other, in a way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As friends.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And thus, it wasn’t really shocking. Surprising, maybe, but not shocking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The harsh shine of sunlight had never been more glaring, as she had woken up. The sheets were thin and scratchy, and the matress was lumpy. Comfort was not exactly in spades, where they woke up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She had squinted heavily, sitting up with a groan. And then, she had stopped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh God.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae gasped, sitting up with a thundering heart. For a moment, it almost seemed that her thick, comfy blanket was a thin, grey blue-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The harsh glare of remembered sunlight in her eyes abated, and she sighed with relief. And then, it all came crashing back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re in college.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gregg isn’t here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And Casey…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, trying to clear her thought as she got up. She scratched at her ear, tail flicking agitatedly, as she stepped towards her tiny bathroom and took a shower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scrubbing wasn’t enough to remove the feeling of being…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gross.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She dressed, slipping on a plain grey shirt and a pair of jeans. She paused, hand stopping, as she saw the jacket that she still hated herself for packing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, she almost fell under the desire to wear it. And then, she shook off the old sensation of tugging in her stomach and closed the tiny closet, instead grabbing the thin windbreaker her parents had given her before she left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped out, glancing at her watch. And, only then, did she realize that it was incredibly early. Or maybe late. The sky was a deep, heavy black, maybe midnight blue, and the moon hung heavily over it. It weighed down on her, and she felt her shoulders slump with a familiar weight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And Casey was gone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had called him - or rather, had tried to. And then had resorted to calling Gregg when he hadn’t picked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> picked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A clean break.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It still hurt like hell. She got it, but it hurt like hell. And, as she walked outside, door groaning slightly and hinges squeaking heavily, the familiar weight on her shoulders lifted slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It may hurt like hell, but it was almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>freeing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the sensation of not being tied to someone she shared such intimate details with. Her best friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey had been the biggest thing still tying her to town. Now, that tie had been severed, and it felt…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Light. She felt light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t worth it. The weight on her shoulders that had fallen when she had heard about Casey was much heavier then any tie to Possum Springs. She may not have wanted anything trying to pull her back, had wanted a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clean break</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This cost was too high.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat on the cold stone steps, sighing slightly as she did. It felt like her soul had escaped her body in that sigh, and the taut pull against her limbs flew out of her body. Lethargy fell upon her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh God.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked around the room, trying to find anything to disprove the notion that had just popped into her mind. But, indeed, it was exactly how her half-blurred mind remembered it, when they had stumbled in.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She turned to her right, and found Casey, already dressed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did we…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah.” Casey said shortly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was heavy silence.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So… what happens now?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Casey turned to her. His face was soft, and the ginger fur was fluffy and puffed up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see how her drunk mind had persuaded her to…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you want to happen?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She smiled softly at Casey. Honestly, that was such a </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>Casey</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span> response.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...I don’t know.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And Casey turned away again. He walked out the door, and paused.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s some clothes on the nightstand.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His voice was just as she had remembered it. And something about that, about such a small detail remaining unchanged by what had happened, made some of the tension leave her shoulders.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thanks.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Casey left, closing the door softly behind him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And Mae tried to convince herself that nothing would change.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, to this day, Mae wasn’t sure if she was glad that her wish came true.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> changed. It was like it never happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well… almost. Sometimes, she could see it, lingering in the corners of his eyes. The knowledge of what they’d done, and what they could do again. They sat a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> closer, and smiled a </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch</span>
  </em>
  <span> more often.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because, now, they both knew everything about each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were closer, even, then best friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because they had, for just a few minutes, been lovers.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She stared at Gregg, and her brain began panicking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, ‘we need to talk about Casey’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chuckled nervously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is there to talk about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg stared right back at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he ran away.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just a short little something to tide you over.</p><p>Uhm, so yeah, that... relationship kinda came outta nowhere for me too. But I liked this idea a lot, and I think developing Casey is a lot of fun.</p><p>And, BTW, you guys don't need to worry about me working myself to death. I have plenty of spare time and I really love doing this, so... yeah.</p><p>And yes, I do read comments. And thank you for all the support, guys. I'm shocked that anyone likes my short little outta nowhere stories, and it always makes me feel good to see that people like my work. Though, if you have any questions or criticism, please, give it to me.</p><p>Always looking to improve, and all that.</p><p>-Howard</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Just Smile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Velvet turns to steel, until Bea does some wood carving.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Credit to Infinite Fall for having a great word followed by the most beautiful season as their team name.</p><p>Oh, and, as an aside - just a bit of credit also goes to Lena Raine, the creator of the Celeste soundtrack, whose music I have been listening to while writing this. She's great, go check out that soundtrack if you have a bit of spare time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Mae stepped out of The Ol’ Pickaxe, she didn’t know what to think or how to feel.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is that all? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Did you get a proper night of sleep last night? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The two voices wrestled in her head for dominance, the tones of them almost seeming like two different people.</p><p> </p><p>They had been getting along. They had learned each other’s names. And she had decided to try and get some food into Bea.</p><p> </p><p>After all, she had missed at least one meal because of Mae. Might as well make up for it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> My treat. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is that all? Because I have work to do. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You said you have nightmares. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She had sounded so… cold. So dismissive. Like Mae was an insect that she begrudgingly delt with. And then, just a moment later, the ice in her voice had melted. She had maybe even sounded... <em> concerned. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then, the conflict in Mae’s brain just… melted away. She hopped down the road, a bounce in her step, and reached her thinking spot.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea, Bea, Bea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What a wonderful name. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How could I ever be mad at someone with such a wonderful name? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Bea,” she sighed happily, the traces of a smile tugging at her lips.</p><p> </p><p>And then, with the conflict gone, she was able to see how great an interaction that had been. It had been easy, and cheerful, and <em> friendly. </em></p><p> </p><p><em> Bea </em> had been <em> concerned. </em> About <em> her! </em></p><p> </p><p>She grinned a dopey grin.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea, Bea, Bea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Oh how great a day it was, now that her conflict was gone. She hopped down the roads, a bright, sunny smile ripping her face open, greeting everyone she knew.</p><p> </p><p>“You know I love this town, Selmers?”</p><p> </p><p>And Selmers had given her a look like she was crazy, as she bounced away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And Mae smiled.</p>
<hr/><p>Bea locked the door behind her, sighing in relief as she did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Another day gone. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The thought felt bittersweet, burning and dripping in the corners of her mind. Another day gone. Another day towards when she didn’t have to live in Possum Springs.</p><p> </p><p>Another day her mother wasn’t with her.</p><p> </p><p>Another day gone from her life.</p><p> </p><p>Another day towards the life she would lead.</p><p> </p><p>One less day to live.</p><p> </p><p>And one more day towards her inevitable death.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bittersweet. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The air smelled like gasoline, and the thick fog gathered at the ground clung to her clothes. The streetlights glowed and flickered like fireflies above her, and they shined against the glass surface of the now empty cup in her car.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I need a drink. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...Would Mom have wanted this? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The familiar thought was easily pushed away as she drove. The door to her apartment creaked slightly as she opened it, though not quite as much as it had when they had first moved in.</p><p> </p><p>She thought it was appropriate that she lived in a library turned into an apartment building. A literal representative of the dying intelligence of this town, where the woman who wanted more than anything to go to college lived.</p><p> </p><p>She slipped into the apartment, and went quickly to the fridge. She opened it and grabbed a familiar bottle of amber, shining merrily in the harsh white glow of the light above it.</p><p> </p><p>She poured it into a cup, and grabbed it.</p><p> </p><p>She hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>And lifted the cup to her lips.</p><p> </p><p>The routine, at this point, was a familiar one. It was one she went through nearly every day, and the steps of it never changed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Think about getting a drink. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Would Mom have wanted this? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crush that thought. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pour. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hesitate. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Drink. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was never broken.</p><p> </p><p>She tilted the cup.</p><p> </p><p>And, suddenly, an image flashed in her mind. Mae, flashing that sheepish smile at her.</p><p> </p><p>A phantom spark flew and died in her gut.</p><p> </p><p>And, for the first time, she hesitated again.</p><p> </p><p>And drank.</p><p> </p><p>Warmth flooded her quickly, and the bittersweet sensation clinging to the edges of her mind faded. There was a nice, soft buzz somewhere on her, <em> in </em> her, that pushed away the lethargy that had gathered in her veins as her shift had worn on.</p><p> </p><p>Relief. Sweet, blessed relief.</p><p> </p><p>She climbed the stairs up to her room with practiced movements, hand sliding along the barrister. She fell upon her bed, kicking off her shoes half-heartedly, and instantly began to fall into a deep, warm blackness.</p><p> </p><p>And the last image that flashed before her mind’s eye, was of Mae, smiling a wicked grin at her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> God, I hate that girl. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And yet, the sensation welling in her gut as she fell asleep was not annoyance, much less hatred.</p><p> </p><p>It was, then, probably good that Bea never had the chance to tell what it was before she passed into the realm of unconsciousness.</p>
<hr/><p>The days passed, and Bea went to work without a care in the world.</p><p> </p><p>The first day, she had done her morning routine - though, this time, she did manage to get basic hygiene in there somewhere - without a single thought. She had driven to work, hopped behind the counter, and read her brochures in peace.</p><p> </p><p>It was only when it was nearing six o’ clock that Bea realized Mae hadn’t shown up.</p><p> </p><p>She tried to convince herself she wasn’t thinking about it. About Mae, who showed up every day with a cheery smile on her face. About Mae, who seemed to love this town despite Bea’s disgust with it. About Mae, who almost seemed to <em> care </em> about what Bea thought.</p><p> </p><p>About Mae, who showed up <em> every day. </em></p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t worried. She didn’t think about it. But, whenever she let her attention wander from the words on the page, her own voice echoed in her ears.</p><p> </p><p>Cold. Distant. Dismissive.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is that all? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mae, who had grinned that wicked grin at her just a few moments later. Like nothing was wrong. Like she wasn’t insulted. Like the soft <em> ‘oh.’ </em> she had said hadn’t sounded like her world had come undone, for just a moment.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She had been fine. She had grinned. She had smiled. She had made a joke. Just like always. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Just because she didn’t drop by doesn’t mean she’s… whatever you think she is. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then, she heard a fox’s voice in her ear.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She’s good at bottling things up. Things like, say… hurt. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And the reassuring thoughts became more distant and less convincing every passing second.</p><p> </p><p>By the time she closed the shop, Mae hadn’t shown.</p><p> </p><p>She went to bed, mind filled with echoes of her voice and guilt trapped in her chest.</p><p> </p><p>It was when Mae didn’t show up the next day that she started getting worried. Or, at least, let herself acknowledge that she was worried.</p><p> </p><p>And then, another day passed, without a single smile from the cheery cat.</p><p> </p><p>And another.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is that all? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And Bea worried she had made a huge mistake.</p><p> </p><p>It was on the fifth day that Mae finally stepped into her shop once more. Bea tried to ignore the rush of relief, and then found that she didn’t have to.</p><p> </p><p>Because the relief vanished the second she got a good look at her.</p><p> </p><p>Mae, who always smiled. Mae, who was lazily content when she wasn’t bursting with joy. Mae, who could make her snort.</p><p> </p><p>Mae, who had just walked into the shop looking half-dead.</p><p> </p><p>One of her ears was laid flat against her head, and the other was twitching rapidly. Her fur was alternately laying flat in coarse, dirty patches and spiking up like goosebumps were constantly raking her skin. Her eyes were half-lidded, and the usual cheery smile on her face had vanished. Instead, she looked…</p><p> </p><p>Blank. That was the only word for it. Like the entire world had just died, and she had nothing left to stumble around for, but she hadn’t accepted it yet.</p><p> </p><p>God, Bea might need to get out her emergency bottle of whiskey.</p><p> </p><p>“You look like shit.” She commented blandly, though there was a lilt in her voice that she hadn’t intended to be there.</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it didn’t sound good.</p><p> </p><p>Mae glanced up from where she had been tracing the line of her shoelaces, and smiled. It was soft, barely more than a tick, but instantly some of the tension left Bea’s shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>Warmth had flooded her eyes again, and the blankness on her face had abated. It didn’t occur to Bea that seeing <em> her </em> had been the cause of it.</p><p> </p><p>“You look wonderful too, Bea.” Mae returned, walking carefully to the counter. She propped both elbows on it and laced her hands together before laying her head on them, staring directly at Bea.</p><p> </p><p>Something about those half-lidded eyes, lazily content once more, made another spark fly and die in Bea’s gut.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea despised the fact that the lilt in her voice had shifted to something resembling <em> concern. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Just a few bad dreams. Nothing I can’t handle.” Mae responded, smiling softly once more.</p><p> </p><p>She still hadn’t looked away.</p><p> </p><p>Bea felt a spider crawl slowly up her spine. When she went to swat it, though, she found that nothing was there.</p><p> </p><p>“A few bad dreams made you not come here and annoy me again for five days? Thank God for nightmares.” Bea said sardonically.</p><p> </p><p>Something flashed in Mae’s eye, before vanishing.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that your way of asking why I didn’t show up here? Because, Bea, trust me, it wasn’t by choice.”</p><p> </p><p>Despite the words normal intent of reassurance, there was something dark in Mae’s tone that put another dagger of guilt in Bea’s stomach.</p><p> </p><p>Bea ignored it.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, actually, I would like to know that.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae smirked a dark smirk at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh. Well how about that.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a heavy silence in the store. Bea realized, belatedly, that that was Mae’s way of telling her <em> fuck off. </em></p><p> </p><p>It almost hurt more then <em> fuck off </em> did.</p><p> </p><p>And Bea realized, for the first time, how much this low-key relationship relied on Mae not being offended by her personality. But, today, Mae wasn’t putting up with it.</p><p> </p><p>Mae dropped the folded hand pose, and hopped onto the counter. She sat down on it, and gestured wildly as she spoke.</p><p> </p><p>All of those were normal Mae occurrences. But, before, it had seemed almost like she just didn’t realize she was doing those things. Now, it seemed more like she just didn’t care enough to stand up.</p><p> </p><p>Like she was <em> above </em> doing it.</p><p> </p><p>“So, got any more menial tasks for me? I would like to earn some money today.” Mae grinned sardonically at her. “It would be a silver lining to this week.”</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t the Mae Bea had come to know. This was a sleep deprived, angry, done with all her bullshit Mae who could care less about what she thought.</p><p> </p><p>This Mae was…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Like everyone else. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And Bea suddenly realized that, normally, Mae <em> wasn’t </em> like everyone else. That Mae <em> cared. </em> That Mae had looked at her like she was something <em> worth </em> looking at, with a kind of softness that Bea had never seen before.</p><p> </p><p>But, now, that softness that had made Mae worth talking, had hardened. The velvet that she had shown Bea had turned to steel, and it showed in the harsh warning glare in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I don’t know this person. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And Bea realized just how much she had taken that softness for granted.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Bea answered, voice quieter. “Uh, I want to put up a sign, a bit further down the road. Out by Ham Panther. But I didn’t want it to just be any other sign, so, uh, I’m carving it out of wood.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can pass me the tools I need, and then you can help carry it out to where we’re going to post it. Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Got it.” Mae said shortly, hopping off the counter and onto Bea’s side. “Where’s this sign at, anyways?”</p><p> </p><p>“Over here.”</p><p> </p><p>They walked through the portable maze of shelves and cabinets, over to a dark blue painted counter. There was a shining metal overhang over a thick piece of wood, the words ‘The Ol’ Pi’ already spelled out.</p><p> </p><p>Mae snorted when she saw it.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae gestured in response.</p><p> </p><p>“The ‘old pi’.” Mae said. And, finally, a grin with some of its usual cheery energy shined through her lips in a light smile tugging at her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Bea rolled her eyes at the immaturity, though she felt something relieved bloom in her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“So, could you pass me that drill?”</p>
<hr/><p>Bea leaned back and looked at her work, smiling slightly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The Ol’ Pickaxe </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn good. And Bea gave herself a moment to pat her own back.</p><p> </p><p>“Not half bad, Bea.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s sardonic voice rang in her ears, but, luckily, it had a soft, approving lilt to it. Bea grinned at her in response, without conscious input.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I’m amazing. I will now, as your glorious leader of all things awesome, give you a moment to bask in the fruits of my effort.”</p><p> </p><p>And Mae <em> laughed. </em></p><p> </p><p>It was a sound like ice on mallets, thin, warm, wooden clangs making something erratically beautiful. The ice shined in the sparkle of her eyes, and her teeth glinted in the burning light above them, harsh and sharp.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, Bea’ s ears rang with nothing more then the sound of that laughter. It was the largest sign of the Mae <em> she </em> knew that she had been shown all day, that alien <em> softness </em> ringing somewhere in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, for some reason, the combination of that and the slightly harsh, grating steel sound made another spark fly somewhere in her ribcage.</p><p> </p><p>And then, it was gone, almost as quickly as it started. And Mae simply grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, hand me a knife. A sharp one. I’ll use it to do the finer details, we’ll sand it off, and we’ll paint on any extra text, so it should be ready tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“Coo.” Mae answered, hopping onto the grey top of the blue-grey counter next to them. A bit farther down the shelves, a sink glinted.</p><p> </p><p>Just a moment later, a knife was put in her palm. Bea noted that Mae handed it blade-first, but decided that it simply hadn’t occurred to the girl to do anything else.</p><p> </p><p>She took the knife to the edges of the wood, pressing her hand down just above it to contrast with the sharp stabs of the knife and keep the wood steady.</p><p> </p><p>“So, how’d you end up working here anyway?”</p><p> </p><p>“Same way as you,” Bea said shortly, between stabs. “I started doing some freelance work-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her mother’s face, smiling softly and guiding Bea through hammering a nail. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“-When I was really young, so, when I got older, I was the perfect candidate to start work more… officially. And then, I just kinda… climbed the ladder.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nobody else wanted to do the hard work, just the menial crap that got them a bit of cash. And so, I did it. And then, I just… ended up being right at the top.”</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t see Mae’s face, but she could hear the sharp grin in her voice as she answered -</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you probably <em> would </em> end up on top.”</p><p> </p><p>A flash of shock.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pain. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, <em> fuck! </em>” she shouted, cradling her arm.</p><p> </p><p>“What? What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s voice sounded nearly <em> frantic, </em> and the sound of it brought Bea back from the realm of mindless pain that she had lived in, if only for a few moments.</p><p> </p><p>“I cut my hand.” She grit out, teeth clenched.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, let me see it.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea glared at her, and muttered “‘m not a child,” but nonetheless gave Mae her arm. And, right there, on the back, was a bright red cut, already leaking thin blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh god,” the cat girl muttered, staring at the cut. “Oh god, you’re <em> bleeding. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>There was something broken and <em> wrong </em> in Mae’s voice.</p><p> </p><p>She was dragged over to the sink, Mae’s paw wrapped snugly around her hand without touching the cut. The girl turned the water on, checking the temperature, and then she gingerly put Bea’s hand under the gentle water flow.</p><p> </p><p>She hissed, unable to stop the sound, but Mae didn’t seem to notice. She was staring at the cut and the reddish water now running over it.</p><p> </p><p>There was something <em> wrong. </em> It was in the slight widening of her eyes, the way her tail was standing ridged, the way her hands trembled slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay there until it stops bleeding.” Mae instructed softly, before walking away. Bea heard the distant sounds of cabinets and drawers, but ignored them in favor of the burning sensation in her hand.</p><p> </p><p>Just a few moments later Mae returned, a bright white tube in her hand. She walked swiftly to where Bea still stood, hand under the water, and gently grabbed her hand.</p><p> </p><p>She had pulled up a stool from somewhere, and Bea sat down in it gratefully. Mae got on one knee, and inspected the cut, now only gently dribbling a few remaining droplets of blood.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>The words were so quiet that, for a moment, Bea thought she had imagined them. And then, Mae glanced up, eyes wide, and Bea saw something soft and vulnerable in them. And she knew she had heard correctly.</p><p> </p><p>“No need to apologize,” Bea answered, equally softly, looking away. There was something about those eyes, peering up at her with that softness now radiating from them, that made something wiggle uncomfortably in her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>And then, she felt something cool against the wound on her hand, and hissed in pure surprise. When she glanced down, Mae was spreading something on the cut, staring intently at the wound.</p><p> </p><p>And the pads of her paws were so <em> smooth… </em></p><p> </p><p>Bea tried to turn her mind away from the hands on her, and furrowed her eyebrows, looking down.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>“No idea. I just know this it what Mom always put on a cut whenever I got one, so…”</p><p> </p><p>Bea snorted. “Your medical prowess astounds me.”</p><p> </p><p>She just caught the soft smile on Mae’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“I know. I happened to major in arithmetic, but my skills as a doctor are world-renowned.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea couldn’t help the start of a laugh that left her lips before it was crushed.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea looked down at the cat, who was still on one knee holding her hand despite the fact that the cut needing no more attending to.</p><p> </p><p>“Really, it’s no problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were <em> bleeding. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“It was my own fault.”</p><p> </p><p>“I distracted you.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll clear up in less then a week.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not the point!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea’s eyes widened as Mae nearly shouted at her, eyes glinting.</p><p> </p><p>“The point is, you were <em> bleeding, </em> bleeding because of <em> me, </em> and you… you were <em> hurt, </em> and I, I was just… panicking!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea stared down at the cat, whose head had dropped back down to stare at her hand after this outburst.</p><p> </p><p>“It really isn’t a big deal, Margaret.” Bea smiled softly. “And plus, you did more then I did.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae simply looked up at her, eyes wide and impossibly soft.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, you should smile more.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea looked away, feeling a foreign burning sensation on her skin. The pads of Mae’s paw ran over her skin again, carefully avoiding the wound, and she suddenly became hyper aware of Mae’s hand still holding onto her.</p><p> </p><p>And then, she heard Mae’s voice again, quiet and vulnerable.</p><p> </p><p>“We should probably get a bandage on this.”</p><p> </p><p>And, just a moment later, Bea did indeed feel a bandage being applied to her skin. And then, Mae’s hand left hers, and she found herself suddenly very aware of the sensation of her skin, bare and cold.</p><p> </p><p>“All done.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae stood, and Bea hesitantly stood with her, cradling her now bandaged hand. Her knees cracked and she wanted to groan, and she was more then a bit miffed to see and hear that Mae had neither of those problems.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s late.”</p><p> </p><p>And, when Bea glanced out the window, the sky was indeed a deep midnight black, no moon in sight.</p><p> </p><p>“But we didn’t… the sign-”</p><p> </p><p>“You are <em> not </em> working on that sign again today.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea knew better then to try and argue, the steel in Mae’s voice promising it would do no good.</p><p> </p><p>“In that case, we should probably close up.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae paused suddenly, stiffening. And then, it vanished, and she smiled softly at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. We should.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>“So I’ll just…” Mae said, gesturing behind her awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get the keys. To close up.” Bea answered, turning away and walking swiftly to the counter where her keys sat, shining in the overhead light.</p><p> </p><p>As they walked out and Bea locked the door, the silence hung heavily around them. Bea pulled back, sliding the kesy into her pocket, and turned.</p><p> </p><p>Mae was leaning against the doorframe. The streetlight behind her lit the edges of her silhouette, while covering her front in shadow. But those eyes, yellow with a red tint, were bright and sparkling with that unnatural light that lit the eyes of cats in the dark. The pupils were wide and glittering black, and the sharp glint of teeth showed the smallest hint of a sheepish smile.</p><p> </p><p>This time, it felt like three, uniquely uncomfortable sparks lit and flew in her chest, spreading in different directions. They clung to her ribs and flesh, for a moment, before dissipating harmlessly as always.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, your car is always parked up front, but you must live in town. Everyone who works in town lives in town. So why don’t you just walk?”</p><p> </p><p>The question, luckily, gave something to distract Bea from the sensations in her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“I just hate walking. It wastes time.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae seemed to believe, or at least, accept this answer. She turned away slightly, and Bea could just see the now lit side of her profile. Bright orange shirt with a darker zero standing stark in the middle.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you always wear that shirt?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae looked up at her again, and smiled an embarrassed smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I, uh, made it. And I’m proud that I managed to make <em> anything, </em> much less something that actually fits me comfortably and looks okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea nodded.</p><p> </p><p>There was silence again, for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“I should… you know.” Bea said, feeling suddenly awkward for some reason she couldn’t pinpoint.</p><p> </p><p>Mae blinked, and then grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you really should. It’s probably past midnight by now.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea began to turn, relieved by the end of this oddly strained conversation, but then froze.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!”</p><p> </p><p>She turned back, and pulled out her wallet.</p><p> </p><p>“I forgot to pay you.”</p><p> </p><p>And then, suddenly, Mae backed up a step, eyes wide. Bea furrowed her brow confusedly at the sudden panic in her stance.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no. No, keep it. I… keep it.” She repeated, hands up and spread like Bea was pointing a gun at her, and not trying to hive her money.</p><p> </p><p>“But… why?” Bea asked, genuinely confused.</p><p> </p><p>“I… I just wanted to hang out with you.” Mae said, hesitantly.</p><p> </p><p>And suddenly, that squirming sensation she had felt struggled again in Bea’s gut.</p><p> </p><p>“But you said you -”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I know.” Mae answered, cutting her off. “But, even if I did, I couldn’t take your money. I hardly did anything, and you ended up hurt because of me. And plus, I never actually intended to take your money in the first place.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why…?</p><p> </p><p>“I… I need to get home now. Mom and Dad will be worried about me.” Mae answered, grinning slightly and stepping backwards with a wave. “Good night, Bea!” She called, turning and beginning to run away, a slight hop in every step.</p><p> </p><p>It was only when Mae was little more then a faint silhouette in the distance that Bea responded.</p><p> </p><p>“Good night, Margaret.”</p><p> </p><p>Only silence answered her.</p><p> </p><p>And Bea got into her car, trying not to think of the smooth, warm feeling of Mae’s paw on her hand, and the tenderness of her care.</p>
<hr/><p>Before going to bed, Mae let herself fall into her emotions. She wasn’t sure quite what they were - an odd combination of panic, anxiety, fondness, giddiness, and some uncomfortable, burning warmth she hadn’t felt before.</p><p> </p><p>Though, below it all, she could still almost feel the smooth scales of Bea’s hand, and see the soft smile that she had given her.</p><p> </p><p>And Mae fell into a fitful slumber.</p>
<hr/><p>The next day, Mae woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. She heard Gregg’s voice, and there was something <em> wrong </em> about it, a kind of tension she hadn’t heard before.</p><p> </p><p>And so, she hesitantly agreed to meet up at the Clik Clak.</p><p> </p><p>And the light shone harshly above her, the glow nearly as sharp as Gregg’s eyes upon her, dissecting her every twitch and dart of her eye.</p><p> </p><p>She stared back at Gregg, and her brain began panicking.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, ‘we need to talk about Casey’?”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled nervously.</p><p> </p><p>“What is there to talk about?”</p><p> </p><p>Gregg stared right into her.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think he ran away.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So - I know what you're thinking. Another chapter? Already?</p><p>I know, right! I'm honestly more then a bit surprised I've managed to get out a chapter a day (though the last one was really short and was more of a drabble, but I still loved it) but I've just been loving working on this fic. I'm honestly neglecting my other fics a bit, but I'll get in some time to work on them at some point.</p><p>I probably won't keep this upload schedule for much longer (though, knowing how much I'm loving writing this, I very well might) but I do promise to at least have an upload every week. Or, at least, to try my best to.</p><p>And I do know that the last chapter was a bit confusing time scale wise, so, hopefully, this at least clears up when the last section of that chapter is happening. And yes, next time, I do plan on trying to explain where Mae was those five days and what's going on with the plot.</p><p>All in due time, my dear readers. All in due time. Thank you all again for reading, and commenting, and all that jazz. If you have any questions, about anything (preferably story related, but if you want to know my favorite Pop Tart flavor, that's cool too) please, leave them below - I'm starting to hop around a bit more in time and this is getting quite a bit more complicated then I expected it to.</p><p>But that's just what happens when I love a fic enough to work on it at least an hour every day.</p><p>-Howard</p><p>IMPORTANT; PLEASE READ (or don't, I'm not your boss, but just as a personal favor - and plus, it concerns you guys):</p><p>P.S: I just uploaded this like, a few minutes ago, but already an interesting idea popped into my head.</p><p>So, I really enjoyed working on that interlude/flashback about Mae and Casey. So, time for a bit of a proposal, and I wanted you guy's opinion on it.</p><p>Do you want more of that?</p><p>See, I'm considering adding a similar thing every third chapter - keep it consistent and all that jazz - or, alternatively, I could make that interlude just the introduction to an entirely different fic - a series about Casey, Mae and Gregg without the calming influence of Bea around.</p><p>And plus, we can ask the question - why did this cult choose to take Casey in the first place? Obviously, in the original, it was just because he wouldn't be missed, but I like the idea of Casey as a psuedo Mae, persuing this cult on his own and getting himself into serious hot water. It means it could have a plot and everything, and it would link really well with this story!</p><p>Or, of course, if you guys want, we can never bring it up again. You can tell me you just don't care - I don't mind. I'll probably still end up writing it whenever I have spare time, but I don't have to publish it and shove it into your face when you just wanna read about your favorite crocodile (alligator?) and cat. I've had a fic which tried to do this in the past and utterly failed (though that one was HP) so, if you just don't care, please, tell me. I do this mainly for my own enjoyment, but publishing it means I'm trying to give you guys something entertaining. And if you don't want that, or if you want it as a separate fic, then that's fine. You just have to tell me.</p><p>Okay, goodbye for real this time.</p><p>-R</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Not-So-Clean Break</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bea learns something and has a minor freakout, and Gregg might need a hobby.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Credit to my boys and girls at Infinite Fall.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mae stared at Gregg, who was staring right back. The panic in her veins abated slightly, but it was replaced with an altogether less exciting but equally disturbing feeling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dread.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...But…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence was heavy in the diner, the soft music floating in the air and the orange glow of the light above them contrasting sharply with the news she had just been given.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think he ran away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head firmly, trying to clear out the cobwebs of emotion that had wrapped around her thoughts, at the mention of Casey. They clung to her, her pulse pounding with a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and feelings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, in her head, there was a cat, smiling a soft, kind smile at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart thumped a heavy beat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shake of her head did nothing to clear her thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Okay. Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae tried to think rationally, even while Gregg’s eye pierced her with frightening precision.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg rolled his claws against the desk once, before they froze. He was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before answering -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think about it, Mae. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Casey.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Casey always talked about hopping a train, sure, but… he always talked about taking me and Angus with him. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> said he would never leave us, alone and defenceless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But he just… vanished. Like he had never existed. Not a note, not a message, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> left behind to explain himself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He just wanted to make a clean break,” Mae answered, though her pulse was </span>
  <em>
    <span>pounding</span>
  </em>
  <span> by this point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make a clean break? Does that sound like Casey to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but… what else could have happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg put his head in his hands, and his voice came out strangled and desperate as he answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t know!</span>
  </em>
  <span> But don’t we owe it to Casey to at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>check?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The music stopped, and a new song began to play. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Mae couldn’t put her finger on why.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Probably because it wasn’t something to focus on right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Okay. Okay, let’s say Casey </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> hop a train. What do we do? Where do we look? How do we check?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg didn’t answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae leaned forward, and her voice was slightly choked as she spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss him too, Gregg. But…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>what.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg’s voice was harsh, as he finally looked up again. His eyes were flinty, and his hands curled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think I’m crazy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! No, Gregg, I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> think that.” She answered, voice desperate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t we… isn’t there </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can do?” Gregg asked, flint gone and desperation back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gregg…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> delusional. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> Casey wouldn’t just leave us out to dry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Would he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stared at the fox, the energetic teen she had known nowhere to be seen in this broken husk of a man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mae… you know I would never hurt you, right? You know I could never… never do anything to hurt you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss him too, Gregg. I really do. But… Casey would want us to move on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg looked up at her, eyes wide and teary.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really think… you really think Casey could do that? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did</span>
  </em>
  <span> do that? Casey, our best friend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hesitated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Gregg. Would the Casey </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> know do that? No. But I had been gone for nearly a year by the time he left. And plus… which is more likely? That he hopped a train, something he </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> talked about doing, or… whatever you’re proposing. Murder? Kidnapping?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg merely put his head back in his hands. Mae sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And even if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> hop a train, what do we do about it? The cops haven’t found him, and his parents already put up missing posters. What else could we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gregg?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae reached forward, and pried Gregg’s hands down. She grabbed one of his paws between hers, and spoke softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him, Gregg.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> about Angus.” He responded sharply, staring across the table at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No? So you just… thought of this, out of the blue?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that where </span>
  <em>
    <span>most</span>
  </em>
  <span> thoughts come from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae simply stared through him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> about Angus. It’s about Casey. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to get your priorities straight. Don’t you care about him at all?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hands clenched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She whispered, voice deadly, “tell me I don’t care about him. You don’t… you can’t…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stopped, and then stood smoothly, eyes glinting in the light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> get </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> priorities straight, and pull yourself together, Gregg. I love you like a brother, but I can’t deal with whatever you’rre going through right now. You’re falling apart at the seams, and, frankly, I have my own crap to deal with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So just </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk to him,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She went on, voice softening. “I bet he’s just as miserable as you are right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg didn’t try to stop her.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>And, when she finally reached her room later that night, she broke down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cried. She fumed. She tore her room apart, and then put it back together, movements slow and lethargic. She paced wildly, and shouted, and cussed, and sobbed, and then laid down on her bed, eyes distant and unapproachable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, when she finally fell into a fitful slumber, her dreams were filled with a soft face covered in ginger fur, smiling at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know I’d never hurt you, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, when she woke, she had tears in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“...Why did I let you rope me into this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stared straight ahead, steps even and paced along the grey cement. Mae grinned back at her from where she was currently walking ahead, teeth glinting in the early morning sunlight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re sensible,” Mae answered her, turning around and hopping slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea sighed, but nonetheless continued to pace her steps along the road, the early morning light shining on the horizon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been rather happy to note that Mae looked like she had finally gotten a decent sleep, when the girl had walked into her store again at dawn. She had been grinning wildly once more, and the steel in her eyes had vanished, replaced by the now well-known energy and giddiness that usually shined there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though that grin had faltered slightly after she saw the rather noticeable bandage on Bea’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had gone back to the sign, though Mae had silently watched with a careful eye as Bea put on the finishing touches. They had painted on some extra text to wrap it up, and then Bea had handed it off to Mae, and gotten ready to go to her car.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, somehow, through reasons that now seemed rather elusive to her myopic mind, Mae had convinced her </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drive, but instead, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk,</span>
  </em>
  <span> down the road, looking for a good place to put the sign.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the harsh early morning sunlight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With dew still sparkling on the grass, which was long enough to tickle her ankles and wet the bottom of her jeans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And thus, they had ended up here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I am. Which is why I’m wondering how a mongrel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> managed to convince a sensible person like me to drop everything and take an early morning stroll.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Bea could </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> the grin in Mae’s voice when she answered -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was in the debate club.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea felt the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips in response, though that smile was hastily crushed. And then, suddenly, she stopped, brow furrowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait… we didn’t have clubs in school.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I meant in college. Uhm, didn’t I mention majoring in arithmetic at one point?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Bea’s oh so fragile world shattered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You went to college?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea thought it was a miracle that her voice didn’t waver and break there. But, despite that, Mae stopped, turning towards her with a concerned look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Is that… a big deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A… a </span>
  <em>
    <span>big deal?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea knew her voice was just on the edge of hysteria, but she forgave herself for it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mae went to college.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Uh, yeah. Like, is it a problem? A sticking point? Cause you’re sounding a little…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She trailed off, but Bea barely heard her. Her mind was suddenly putting together pieces that she had never noticed before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You… did you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>drop out?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh… yeah, I did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stood, rock still, and tried to contain the welling rush of pure rage that was brewing in her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She failed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You… you…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was staring at her, but Bea could hardly even tell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it? Bea? Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is… </span>
  <em>
    <span>is something wrong?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stepped back a bit, shock etched on her features, but Bea didn’t notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is something </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong?!!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You… you’re so…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air chilled around them as Bea’s focus suddenly fell on Mae again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> for that!!!!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae flinched. Bea ignored it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go to college! I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> for that chance! I’ve been working, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole life,</span>
  </em>
  <span> for just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>chance</span>
  </em>
  <span> for that opportunity! And you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea pointed a trembling finger at Mae.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> went and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>threw that chance away!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The anger wasn’t even the driving force anymore. Instead, it was a kind of deep-seated vitriol that seeped into Bea’s voice, a life-long bitterness made physical through pure rage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?! Why did you trash the opportunity that I’ve made my </span>
  <em>
    <span>life goal?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Who are you, to take something like that, something great, and precious, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>invaluable,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and TRASH IT?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae had been backed against a tree, and Bea stared her down with the most hate-filled glare she had ever given.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> some low-life gutter girl, to take the chance I’ve worked for and stomp it into the dirt? Who are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> to devour the fruit of </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> efforts?! Who are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drink my life blood like it was worth less then a very expensive vacation?!!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those eyes, yellow with a reddish tint, shined in the early morning light, and stared up at her. They were wide and shocked, the girl who was the recipient of her rant now less then an inch from her face and looking up at her with…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, it wasn’t what Bea expected, shining in those eyes. Something like hurt, or desperation, or even guilt. Instead, there seemed to be a fire lit in those eyes, a shining, burning, pulsing flame that seemed both steely and velvety behind the sheen of yellow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Bea suddenly became hyper aware of the fact that they were just the smallest movement from full body contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She straightened, leaving Mae room to breathe, but glared at her still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, Margaret? Was it too </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you? Was it </span>
  <em>
    <span>inconvenient?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae winced slightly, and averted her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence was heavy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just get that sign put up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae nodded, still not looking at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stalked away, walking ahead with quick strides. She heard the sound of shuffling footsteps behind her, and decided that Mae was following.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here.” She said, pointing to a spot in the dirt. “Let’s put it here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae just shuffled forward, and put the sign in the decided spot. Her shoulders, thin and vulnerable, were hunched slightly, giving her whole frame the appearance of being curled in on itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment later, the sign was put up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’m going back to the store.” She scowled. “I trust you don’t need me to hold your hand?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae flinched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea turned smoothly, and began walking away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She froze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...What.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s voice spoke up from behind her, despondent and weak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Bea didn’t respond, she went on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, for dropping out. I think… any reason I tried to give right now would just sound stupid. But, for what little it’s worth, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for throwing away this chance. I’m sorry for trashing the opportunities that the world gave me. And I’m sorry… I’m sorry that the world chose to give that chance to me, and not to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was silence, for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s all. You can… stalk off righteously now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small bubble of amusement welled and popped in Bea’s chest before she answered. The sun shined on the grass below her feet, the edges of the blades sharp and nearly white in the bright glow of early morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smell of dew drifted in the wind, and the air was heavy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Drop by again tomorrow. I have some things I want to unload, and I would appreciate an extra set of hands.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, a moment later, Mae’s voice responded, gratingly cheerful once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Bea thought, belatedly, that she had never forgiven someone so quickly.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bea sighed, stepping into the shop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae had headed on home (</span>
  <em>
    <span>just as she should,</span>
  </em>
  <span> said a small, bitter part of her brain), and so, Bea was finally given the chance to breathe slightly. She had been unable to let her thoughts have free reign, when the cat had been around, because…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because I was on a short leash.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because, honestly, she was still more then a little pissed off at the cheery girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae herself considered herself forgiven - for now at least - and Bea hadn’t retracted that apology. But, despite that, Bea knew this issue was not quite over. Because there was still the question of </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mae left college. And there was more then that, that Bea had noticed and began to question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those moments of blankness that haunted Mae’s face. The fact that she never talked about any friends. And that five day stint she had spent away from The Ol’ Pickaxe. No matter what Mae might insist, Bea couldn’t believe it was merely inconvenience.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed, walking to the counter and leaning heavily against it. The metallic surface was cool against her scales, and she sighed a heavy sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No girl had ever made her </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> so much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No girl has ever made you </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>feel</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span> so much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried to shake off the thoughts, but found them clinging on with an odd desperation. And, below it all, there was the feeling of Mae’s paws holding her hand steady, and that voice, desperate and needy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And you… you were </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>hurt</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>, and I, I was just… panicking!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was something there, too. Something important.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet, for some reason, she almost thought… no, she almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to think-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cut off her traitorous thoughts there. There was no reason to think stupid things, not now, when she was trying to dissect the mystery of the girl who had practically bounced into her shop just a little more then a week ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I… I need my emergency bottle of whiskey.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hopped over the counter, waving off the small </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would Mom have wanted this? </span>
  </em>
  <span>that sprung up in her mind. She reached the drawer, and opened it, finding the expected amber bottle and shot glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She poured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grabbed the glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hesitate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Warmth ran again through her atrophied limbs, and Bea shook her head strongly, feeling the cobwebs clear slightly. With the slight haze, everything seemed slightly clearer - or, at least, more simple. Like everything had been stripped down to the bare facts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or bare emotions.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she found that, when thinking of Mae, her mind could only conjure the image of the blank-faced, steely girl who had stumbled into her shop yesterday. And then, that soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘oh.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she had given after Bea had rejected her offer of dinner. And then, that strain of the lip and closing of the eye when Bea had insulted the girl after she had sorted those files. And then, that blank face, staring out over a sea of garbage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t say goddamn.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a story there, too,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bea thought. But it was distant, and irrelevant. Everything had been stripped to those emotions and a few key moments, and Bea found herself, intentionally or otherwise, reaching a conclusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All I want from Mae…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All I want is for her to never have that look on her face again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea sighed, and corked the bottle again, putting it back in its place. And then, she got back behind the counter, grabbing a brochure as she did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The squirming feeling struggled in her stomach again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You know, you are letting her off too easily.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, she simply ignored it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had dealt with worse.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Gregg knelt slightly, staring at the spot on the ground. He wondered how the police had never noticed it before, before deciding that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> quite hard to notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all, the tracks were the colour of rust, iron shine long since lost. And the stain, too, had dried to the colour of rust. Really, it was hardly noticeable, but for a light shine in the early morning light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A single splatter of blood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Casey.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He whispered, laying two fingers next to the spot and staring at it. And, suddenly, it occurred to him that he had gone a year without even checking the spot his best friend had last been seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Though, in my defence, the police didn’t check it properly either.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stared at the splatter on the iron tracks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But what does this </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>mean</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The splatter seemed to whisper to him, in the early morning sunlight. The dew shined in it, too, and the small patches of reflected sunlight winked at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...It means that I’m not crazy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It means Casey is just as good a friend as I remember.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And it means…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Really, it means I’m in way over my head.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should really just tell the police,” he whispered, staring at the spot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is Casey.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>personal</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Gregg grinned, a dark, vengeful grin that lit his features in a smoky haze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I bet Mae would like to see this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Okay, Gregg, I came. We’ve been walking for nearly ten minutes now. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> are me here for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> farther,” Gregg muttered, seemingly to himself. Mae sighed, but kept walking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae looked up from where her eyes had been tracing the small hole in her shoes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> had sounded more like the Gregg she knew - the dark, plotting, maniacal Gregg who would do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get revenge on her ex and the children who mocked them. The grinning, mischievous Gregg who managed to convince Casey to go along with half his craziest schemes. The silver-tongued devil and plodding, waiting lion, ready to bound onto its pray the second it looked away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared down at the tracks Gregg had gestured to, which looked no different then the ones she had been following for more than a while.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...At what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mae, I know you’re more observant then that! Come on, kneel down here and </span>
  <em>
    <span>look!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae rolled her eyes, but knelt, staring at the tracks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she saw it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, it merely seemed like a sun flare. A glint of the light that wasn’t quite right. And then, she tilted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it was still there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat up higher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it was still there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leaned in, staring at the spot, and noticed that it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch</span>
  </em>
  <span> darker then the rest of the rust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sniffed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And reeled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s blood,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She whispered harshly, staring at Gregg. Gregg smirked a dark smirk back at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But… I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you ever read those posters that Casey’s parents put up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae furrowed her brow, unable to see how that was relevant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, it clicked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” She whispered. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She </span>
  <em>
    <span>hissed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> staring at the spot with wide eyes. Her world reeled, blind, like a film left out in the sun, thoughts scattered and impossible. Everything seemed to be tilting on its axis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world blurred.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, it was all shapes. Orange shapes and green shapes and, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god,</span>
  </em>
  <span> brown shapes. Yellow shapes and red shapes and some of them were talking and trying to say something but her world was falling apart and it was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>shapes</span>
  </em>
  <span> and</span>
</p><p>
  <span>ALL OF IT MEANT NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING, LESS THEN NOTHING, AND THE WORLD WAS DYING AND HE WAS SINGING AND-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>MAE!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fell.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>And then, she was dreaming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he was singing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was Casey, smiling a hauntingly familiar smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You know I would never hurt you, right?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, he was just shapes. And the shapes darkened, and the world folded in on itself, until he was just a rust coloured stain on a rust coloured background.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the world fell, while she was still. Everything tilted on its axis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the world exploded in a violent burst -</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>- of </span>
  <em>
    <span>light</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>light,</span>
  </em>
  <span> light </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and her head pulsed once in agitation. She raised a hand in front of her eyes and squinted, the light burning her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, the light cleared, slightly, and she saw that it was the sun, glaring down on her. And, next to her, hovering, was Gregg.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, you gave me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>heart attack,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mae!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She groaned, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who knew passing out could take so much out of you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stood slowly, her knees bending and her head pulsing again. She cradled it, but continued to stand, until she was staring directly ahead, at the distant trees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg, she noted, had gone silent as she got up. She pointedly looked away from the tracks, and turned to the now quiet fox, who was staring at her silently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope that isn’t a stare of infatuation,” she quipped weakly. “Sorry, I just don’t like you like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg chuckled, equally weakly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was heavy silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t just spring that on a girl. We have weak constitutions, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg peered at her shrewdly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh huh. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> nearly burned down the school?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have </span>
  <em>
    <span>discussed</span>
  </em>
  <span> this, Greggory. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> Casey’s -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg stared up at her, still on one knee. Mae didn’t look back at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So… what… what do we do? Call the cops?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg snorted harshly. Mae finally looked at him, and found that his face was shadowed and scowling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, we don’t. Because the cops haven’t done a single damn thing yet. Because they probably would just say they’ve already searched the best they can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But surely if it was a murder case-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And!” Gregg cut her off. “I don’t want the cops to catch him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, suddenly, the Gregg she knew was back. This, kneeling before her, was a sixteen year old Gregg, wearing a hauntingly familiar dark smirk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to catch the bastard who killed him </span>
  <em>
    <span>myself.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> him die.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg’s dark smirk widened, and his teeth glinted sharply.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>“And I want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill him myself.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So! Plot!</p><p>Yes, the plot in this is finally starting to pick up a bit. We still get a little MaeBea action, but, honestly, I really just needed to get that scene out of the way. It was probably a bit stilted, but I knew that, to stay in character, Bea had to be at least a little pissed about Mae dropping out. And I know, it seems a little like Bea is forgiving Mae too easily here, but yes, this will come up again.</p><p>Really, in the end, the whole deal with this chapter and its slightly stilted style is that I wasn't really in the mood to write anymore MaeBea action quite yet. I mainly wanted to get the plot started in earnest. But, luckily, I think it was a little more important then most filler, as I needed to have that scene eventually, and getting it out of the way so there was no sense of betrayal later helps my plans for them.</p><p>And, yes, I do have plans. And I'm hoping that, next full chapter, I'll write quite a bit more about our favorite lovebirds/lovereptiles/lovecats.</p><p>Which brings me along well to this point - at this point in time, I've elected to have just interludes. I think that, some day not too far from now - maybe when we reach a certain point in this fic that I'm thinking of - I might start another fic all about Gregg and Mae and Casey in the early days, but, honestly, I'm liking the college flashback aspect. I think, though, that the interludes I do write for this fic will be more about Mae and Casey in particular, since developing those two is obviously going to be very important to this fics plot later on.</p><p>And, if you've been keeping track, that interlude should be the very next chapter! And, knowing how quickly I'm writing this, it'll probably be here tomorrow, though it'll probably also be closer to one thousand words then four thousand. As a side note, the relief that you guys get from the main plot with the interludes parallels quite well the relief I get from having a bit more free time. I may love this fic with my whole heart, but I might be working just a bit too much on it. Which is why I'll probably be breaking the chapter every day schedule I've got going on after the interlude.</p><p>Though I do suggest you check everyday anyway because, honestly, I promised myself I would stop doing that when I finished the last chapter. And then I promised myself I would do it after this chapter. But, by this point, I have too appealing an idea for the interlude to not do it tonight, so...</p><p>I probably will end up writing at this pace. Because I just love this fic too damn much.</p><p>Anyway, I need to go outside and think about what to do for the next chapter now. I do hope it isn't cold out there, my jacket hasn't been washed yet.</p><p>Toodles!</p><p>-Howard</p><p>P.S: I love this game, but I never noticed how amazing the soundtrack is. But I've been listening to it on and off while writing this, and by god, it's amazing. Check it out, if you care.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Interlude: Never Hurt You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Casey might never hurt Mae, but he can keep things from her.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Credit to Infinite Fall.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The laughter drifted into the dark, thick woods. A combination of warm, chuckling tones and the high sound of ice on mallets. A fow glanced up, eyes wide, before scampering away on silent feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, just a bit farther, in a clearing in the middle of nowhere, there was a car. It was a dark, midnight blue, and the paint and wax jobs were perfect. The only part that wasn’t perfect was the splatter of not quite dry mud against the wheels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, on the hood of the car, two people laid, laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey Hartley, age eighteen, was merely smiling with the occasional soft, warm chuckle. But, next to him, laid a person in absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>hysterics.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tail flicking giddily, red hair atop her head standing up, the cat girl’s teeth glinted in the moonlight. And the sound of her laughter rang throughout the woods, the distinctive sound of ice on mallets unmistakeable. Many things would change about Mae Borowski, but not her laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ringing sound of laughter finally began to die down, and instead left the girl with merely breathless giggles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny,” the ginger cat said sardonically, though there was a warm spark in his eye that betrayed the fact that he didn’t mind one bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Mae confirmed, having gathered herself. “No, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey chuckled softly. The sound was high, and soft, and silken smooth. Mae could remember when Casey had still gotten voice cracks every sentence, but now, his voice had mellowed and smoothed into something…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Musical.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae laid back again, staring up at the stars. Casey laid with her, though his eyes didn’t focus on the stars. Instead, they traced the lines of Mae, particularly her face, over and over again. Like he was trying to memorize it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Do you know any constellations?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Casey answered, eyes finally flickering up at the night sky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Well, my astrology isn’t quite as good as Angus’s, but I can try.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laid back, and pointed up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There. That, uh, really bright one, right there. That star is right at the top of a constellation. Um… it was like… a bell? I think? And when it rung, the world ended, or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eloquent.” Casey responded blandly. Mae swatted his arm, and he chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay, umm… Oh! Right! Um, see that one, over there? Like, the really dense little swarm of stars, and there’s one really dim one near the left?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Urghh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Okay, here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae grabbed Casey’s hand, and pointed it up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There. Right there. See that little, like.. Cloud of stars?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey squinted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Uhh… like, the really dim little smattering of, like, six?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! That one! See, there’s one </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> really dim one, over on the left. And that one is right in the middle of this guy… um… Gary.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gary?” Casey questioned, grinning slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, Gary. He, like, murdered his whole family, I think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep, that sounds accurate. I’m sure Gary is an old christian name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae swatted his arm again, and he chuckled again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up! I can’t quite remember his name, but he </span>
  <span><em>definitely</em> committed some form of family murder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Sounds like a nice guy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae snorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm… gimme a second here…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey didn’t respond. Instead, he stared to the left, looking directly at Mae.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm… Oh! Yeah, um, okay, so, I think there was one like… really far up, I think? He was like, dead center sky, in this little kind of wonky axe formation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae pointed almost directly up. Casey didn’t mention that he couldn’t see it this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, uh, I remember he was like, really short. Like super short. And he had, like… a peg leg? Maybe? I remember drawing a picture of him with a peg leg when I was, like, six.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, there was this story about how he used to carry the sun across the sky. And he would, like… lasso it? I think? He was like, a proto cowboy. Mixed with pirate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, he would lasso it, and then he would tow it across the sky. But one of his legs, was like… too wonky, or broken, or something? So the sun, like, vaporized it, and he had to get a new leg.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey grinned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Man. Who knew the sun was such a jerk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, right?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey laughed at the genuine hurt in Mae’s tone, and Mae grinned at the sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The laughter, once again, tapered off. The silence was only more heavy and profound because of the distant scampering of unknown paws and the chirping of cicadas. And yet, both of them were unbothered by the silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A friendship is truly unbreakable when two people can sit, in complete silence, and not feel an ounce of strain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Mae?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know… you know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae turned to Casey, brow furrowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s this from all the sudden?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just… you know that, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stared at him silently, for a moment, before smiling softly. The smile was so genuine, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>trustful,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Casey felt the smallest thrum of guilt in his heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he could never tell her. Could never put her at risk like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Casey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. I just… just remember that, okay? I you ever… ever doubt me, or think something I did was stupid and… and if something </span>
  <em>
    <span>happens,</span>
  </em>
  <span> then…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just remember I would never do anything to hurt you, Mae.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stared at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm… okaay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey grinned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, Mr. Hartley, that, among boyfriends and girlfriends, a kiss goodnight is traditional after this kind of romantic evening.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casey snorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, you make an astute point, Ms. Borowski. It is good, then, that we don’t buy into tradition.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae scowled at him, and Casey merely grinned back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, Mae planted her lips on his. When she pulled back, she was grinning wildly, and Casey was staring at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you just…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She had just planted one. On </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>him</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>! He, Casey Hartley, the master of planters!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, I do hope you don’t expect to get away with that, Ms. Borowski.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s grin sharpened at his dark tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> expect to get away with it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hopped off the car in one smooth movement, and called behind her,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you’ll never catch me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment later, the sound of a furious chase and gleeful laughter pierced the woods. Ten minutes later, the sounds stopped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Casey Hartley and Mae Borowski got into the car again, they had both made love for the fifth time.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So - Interludes! And sex! And more Casey/Mae!</p><p>The timeframe here is getting a bit jumbled, so - This happens after the flashback in We Owe Casey Hartley, but before Mae goes to college.</p><p>I really like Mae and Casey's dynamic. I think it perfectly embodies 'friends with benefits,' and I honestly just love how I've characterized them both.</p><p>Thanks again for all the support. I might end up publishing again tomorrow, because I have a habit of overworking myself, but don't count on it.</p><p>Hope you all enjoyed!</p><p>-Howard</p><p>P.S: I'll probably end up putting answers to comments here instead of responding to them individually. It's just less time consuming.</p><p>Yes, the conflict with Mae and Bea about Mae dropping out will come back. Bea's letting it go for now, she has other shit to worry about, but there will be an explanation given to her whether Mae likes it or not.</p><p>And, as for Gregg and Angus... that one I'm keeping tight lipped about. Patience, oh dear reader. We will come back to our favorite power couple.</p><p>Well, except maybe Bea and Mae. Always been a personal favorite for me, that one. (Obviously - I'm writing a fic with it, after all.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Maybe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mae and Bea do a housecall.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Credit to Infinite Fall, and all that good stuff.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How old are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea glanced up from where she had been reading, to see a now familiar sight. Mae was sitting on the counter, eyes half-lidded and lazily content. Her ears were both standing up, this time, but one was twitching rapidly and the other wasn’t. Her tail waved back and forth in slow, hypnotic movements, lazy and relaxed, and one of her paws was rolling out beats on the counter, nails out and clicking against the metal.</p><p> </p><p>“20.” She answered shortly, already looking back down. Mae often began conversations like this - asking a random question or making a random statement. Bea sometimes wondered if she had an entire army of different thoughtlines that all went in different, uniquely crazy directions.</p><p> </p><p>And then she told herself she wasn’t thinking about cat girl, and had a drink.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea furrowed her brow, looking up from her brochure again.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I always thought you were… like, 25 at least.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea snorted, looking down again.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well, I have to act older then I am.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>She looked up, directly into Mea’s eye.</p><p> </p><p>“Because not all of us can just do whatever we want whenever we want it.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae flinched, and Bea looked back down at her brochure.</p><p> </p><p>“When’s your birthday?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea hesitated, though her indecision only showed in the slight stiffening of her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s nail rolls stopped suddenly, and Bea fought the urge to look up.</p><p> </p><p>“Right. Nevermind.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae hopped off the counter, tail flicking back and forth. This time, though, it was in rapid, jerking motions. Tense and uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>“So, uh, you had some stuff you wanted me to unpack?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea froze completely.</p><p> </p><p>And then, the tense line of her shoulders loosened and fell, and she stood smoothly.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes, I <em> did. </em> I decided, however, that your expertise is needed somewhere else.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae squinted at her, posture radiating suspicion.</p><p> </p><p>“...Are you being sarcastic?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all.” Bea answered smoothly. “I do actually need your help with something. See, there’s a housecall that needs to be done. You said you majored in arithmetic, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae blinked.</p><p> </p><p>“Umm… yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea turned to Mae. There was something strange in her voice, maybe with a hint of some odd uncomprehension, or perhaps shock.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. Yeah, I did. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, this housecall is one that none of my guys have managed. Then again, they’re all complete idiots. So, since you majored in arithmetic, you must know a bit of engineering, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um… a touch, yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, I’ve decided to being you along. I think that the problem may actually be something a touch difficult to solve, and a fresh perspective,” she scowled, “even from someone a bit… odd, might be helpful.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s lazy, half lidded eyes were now wide, almost popping out. Her tail was frozen, and the hair atop her head was standing on end.</p><p> </p><p>“...What?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae simply stared at her, for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Then, whatever haze had temporarily overcome the small cat vanished, and she grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“Aye, aye, captain.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea scowled at her again.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I told you not to call me that.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae grinned wider.</p><p> </p><p>“Co-Captain, then.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea simply turned, walking to the door with a scowl still on her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, you damn cat. Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea could still see the grin on Mae’s face, and just <em> knew </em> that that sound she heard was Mae hopping energetically off the counter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why did I ever decide to do this? </em>
</p><hr/><p>“Hey, Bea, check it out! It’s a windmill!”</p><p> </p><p>Mae could practically <em> hear </em> Bea scowl, though the girl was already far ahead.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, a windmill. Stunning, Margaret, it really is. But, fact is, that is supremely unimportant.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae rushed ahead, steps light and bouncy. The smile on her face wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried to quell it, and she just <em> knew </em> it was getting on Bea’s nerves, too. And, as much as she might banter with her, Mae did want to be on Bea’s good side - especially with the argument they had gotten into just yesterday.</p><p> </p><p>But she just couldn’t <em> help it, </em> okay?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bea and I. Alone. Going to do a house call. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She wanted my perspective! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She thinks I might be helpful! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her grin just wouldn’t go away.</p><p> </p><p>“Supremely unimportant!” She called, mock shock in her voice. “Why, I’ll have you know that this is <em> very </em> important! It’s, like… big! And cool!”</p><p> </p><p>“This is the carrousel conversation all over again,” Bea sighed quietly, as Mae finally caught up to her.</p><p> </p><p>“I know! Who throws away a carrousel? And who makes a windmill with just one house near it?! Or sells one to the person who lives here?!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea ignored her, stepping forward as they reached the porch.</p><p> </p><p>“A crazy person, that’s who.” Mae answered, ignoring the fact that she had been the one to ask the question. “Well, I guess crazy people are just a part of life.”</p><p> </p><p>And, suddenly, Bea grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“Hold that thought.”</p><p> </p><p>And, despite Mae’s raised eyebrow, she stepped into the house.</p><hr/><p>“Thank you for coming on such short notice.”</p><p> </p><p>The woman’s voice was just about as ‘old woman’ as you could get. Mae was getting flashbacks to being six years old, a tray of Grandma’s cookies freshly cooked and waiting to be eaten on the stove.</p><p> </p><p>“No problem.” Bea answered tiredly, as Mae stepped up next to her. Mae couldn’t help but glance over at Bea curiously, eyes bubbling with energy.</p><p> </p><p>“I can sleep through a four alarm fire, but that furnace…”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll take a look at it.” Bea answered, voice oozing bored courtesy.</p><p> </p><p>The lady prattle on, with Bea interjecting with the occasional required politities. Things like ‘mhm’ and ‘understandable’ became repeated mantras on their end of the conversation, while the old woman carried on two conversations all by herself. Mae tried to pay attention, she really did, but there was something about the woman’s voice that just lulled you almost instantly into a sense of unbearable boredom.</p><p> </p><p>When it became too much, Mae leaned forward, and whispered to Bea,</p><p> </p><p>“Hey - what did you mean by ‘hold that thought’?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae glanced at the woman, who seemed unaware of their actions. As a result of that glance, she didn’t notice an odd shadow pass over Bea’s eye and a half-shiver run through her shoulders as a result of the whisper.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait for it.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea didn’t bother whispering. The woman was far too into her own rant to notice the fact that the statement had nothing to do with her.</p><p> </p><p>The conversation seemed to go back to the baseline of the woman prattling and Bea interjecting occasionally, but Mae’s focus suddenly shifted back when the old woman said,</p><p> </p><p>“He didn’t smell or nothing!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait... for...it…” Bea said slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t take a woman’s husband just because he’s dead!”</p><p> </p><p>Mae did an honest-to-god double take, and Bea’s voice was droning and just a touch smug as she said,</p><p> </p><p>“<em> There </em> it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh <em> God, </em>” Mae whispered, voice halfway between awed and horrified.</p><p> </p><p>“Took him right off that couch,” the woman continued, as if she were talking about her favorite sweet and not the <em> rotting corpse </em> she had kept in her home.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a crime.” Bea said politely, though Mae caught the hint of sarcasm in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, a crime was definitely committed, alright…” Mae muttered. Bea snorted, and Mae couldn’t help but grin at the sound.</p><p> </p><p>They were skated off into the kitchen, with the old woman muttering something about the fridge to Bea, who responded tiredly, “we bill by the half-hour.” Mae took a moment to glance at her surroundings before following them.</p><p> </p><p><em> Yep. Normal old lady room. </em> Mae thought, more then a bit snidely. <em> Bare, dusty walls, shelves of weird garbage, a TV turned to a static channel, and a window with dusty red drapes. </em></p><p> </p><p>Hse walked into the lit kitchen, and took a glance at the fridge the woman was prattling about. It wasn’t bad, as fridges go - shiny, polished metal and a half-moon emblem on the front.</p><p> </p><p>“Umm… yeah, it’s a nice fridge.” Bea said slowly, staring at it as the woman finally paused in her speech. <em> Did she even breathe? </em> “What’s the problem?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, there’s no problem. I just wanted you to take a look at it.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae had to stifle a giggle as Bea rubbed at her forehead, looking only one inch away from putting her head in her hands as the woman prattled about the fridge.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There is something familiar about it… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! I saw one of these the other night, when I got back into town!” Mae exclaimed suddenly, grinning. Bea gave her a half-startled glance, and the woman gave her a full startled glance.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh really? Where?”</p><p> </p><p>“Upside down, under some logs in a creek in a ravine.” She answered. Bea’s lip twitched.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>“So! Furnace!” Bea exclaimed, breaking the silence that had finally fallen upon the old woman.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yes! Right through here, to the basement.” The woman said, gesturing vaguely to the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Great.” Bea answered sardonically. “Come on, Margaret.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae skipped forward to walk next to bea up to the stairs. Bea stopped suddenly, and said over her shoulder,</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll be down there for a bit.” Bea hesitated. “Don’t forget we’re down here.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae got the odd feeling that the warning was missing something - not from the way it was phrased, exactly, but rather because of Bea’s tone of voice. But she neglected to mention it - she was on thin ice already - and instead, simply followed Bea down as she opened the basement door with an almighty groan.</p><hr/><p>“Ooh! Creepy basement! I <em> love </em> creepy basements.” Mae said with relish.</p><p> </p><p>The basement was, indeed, <em> creepy. </em> It was, like many basements, filled with both closed and half-opened boxes, both cardboard and plastic. There were several ceramic jars tucked into corners, a shiny, rusted metal fan that just <em> screamed </em> safety hazard, and uneven shelves scattered everywhere with various items, both interesting and worthless, stacked haphazardly onto them.</p><p> </p><p>Bea rolled her eyes, and Mae grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s not to love.” Bea answered sardonically, stepping forward. Mae looked around, squinting at the walls and shelves.</p><p> </p><p>“Man. Crowded in here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Bea answered, from in front of the furnace. “You learn fairly quickly, in my line of work, that old woman basements and attics are filled with junk.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe she’s got another few husbands stacked in the corner,” Mae answered, grinning.</p><p> </p><p>Bea snorted, and Mae felt warmth run into her stomach and curl contentedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, let’s get this damn thing fixed,” Bea said, walking around the furnace and kneeling. Mae stepped forward to check it out, but Bea spoke up from behind the furnace quite quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, this shouldn’t take long.”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, that seemed to be everything Bea had to say on the subject. Until, suddenly, she peeked out from behind the furnace.</p><p> </p><p>A bit of either coal dust or gasoline was already smeared on her cheek when she did, and one of her eyes was lit by the glow of the furnace slit right next to her face. The warm light of the fire brought one side of Bea’s face into sharp exposure, showing off every minute detail of the blueish-green scales and single, sharp eye, while the other side was draped in the thick shadow of the basement.</p><p> </p><p>Mae felt something crackle oddly, deep in her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t break anything.” Bea said sharply, frowning at her. She was already going back behind the furnace as Mae responded - </p><p> </p><p>“I would never lower myself to breaking something in <em> here </em>! It’s a basement full of junk!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea didn’t answer - unless one counts the squeaking of screws and the roar of the furnace as an answer.</p><p> </p><p>Mae sighed, walking towards the stairs. She glanced down, and saw a baseball bat, leaned sedately against a brown, slightly crushed box.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Guess I’ll just wait here. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And, as boring as that sounded, Mae didn’t want to risk Bea flipping out on her again. And so, she collapsed against the wall and slid down onto the box, and propped her head against her hand.</p><p> </p><p>And waited.</p><hr/><p>“Done.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae looked up from her shoes, where she had been improvising a story about detective Mae Borowski and her arch-nemesis, Clanky the furnace. She grinned at the crocodile now stepping out from behind the furnace in question, and stood smoothly.</p><p> </p><p>“Awesome! Let’s get outta here.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you <em> loved </em> creepy basements,” Bea drawled, stepping up onto the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I love home too.” She answered.</p><p> </p><p>Mae heard the jiggling of the knob of the basement door. Then, she heard the more insistent jiggling of the knob of the basement door.</p><p> </p><p>“Dammit.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s smile vanished.</p><p> </p><p>“What? What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re locked in.” Bea answered shortly, though her face was twisted into a heavy scowl despite her flippant statement.</p><p> </p><p>“What!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Urghh, I <em> knew </em> this was going to happen!” Bea half-shouted, putting her head in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Stupid, stupid Beatrice…” She muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Mae took a half-step forward, compelled by the wrenching in her gut, before suddenly stopping.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait… you <em> knew </em> this was going to happen?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea glanced up from her hands, staring at her. Mae didn’t see it though, looking down with a furrowed brow as she was.</p><p> </p><p>And then, it clicked.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god.” She said, looking up.</p><p> </p><p>She pointed an accusing finger at Bea.</p><p> </p><p>“You knew!”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> knew </em> we were going to be trapped down here, didn’t you? And you… you threw me under the bus!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I…”</p><p> </p><p>Bea glanced away, the lightest hint of pink tinging her cheeks. Mae grinned triumphantly.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> knew </em>it!”</p><p> </p><p>“I just… I just knew that she was old, and that she’d probably forget we were down here, and - and it’s not like I <em> forced </em> you, or anything, you <em> wanted </em> to come along, it isn’t like it’s <em> my </em>job to look after you -”</p><p> </p><p>“Bea.” Mae interjected. Or rather, tried to interject.</p><p> </p><p>“And I just - I just wanted to, you know, just, bring you along - like, in case my phone didn’t work, or - or in case -”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Bea. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Or just, just in case we couldn’t get out unless we -”</p><p> </p><p>“BEA!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What?! </em>” Bea snarled, glaring at her. Though the light blush on her face, barely visible in the dark basement, ruined the impression. At least, as far as Mae was concerned, it did.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“You - what?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae grinned at the first hint of genuine confusion in Bea’s tone.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mind that you threw me under the bus. After all, I’m proud that, given the choice, <em> I’m </em> the person you would want to be stuck in a basement with.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not - I didn’t - Aaaagh!” Bea groaned, putting her head in her hands again. Mae was smirking a vicious smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t bring you down here to -” Bea began, but Mae cut her off.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, now, Beatrice, let’s not get into a petty argument. After all, we’re trapped in a basement with a woman who can’t hear us screaming. We need to keep our head.</p><p> </p><p>Bea stopped short at that, face frozen.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel, too.” Mae answered.</p><p> </p><p>“...Well, we’ll just have to call someone.”</p><p> </p><p>“...Only problem is, Possum Springs doesn’t get cell reception.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea was stopped short once again.</p><p> </p><p>“Then… can’t we just use data?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a cell.”</p><p> </p><p>“...And mine’s out of power.” Bea responded, after pulling out her phone.</p><p> </p><p>They stared at each other.</p><p> </p><p>“We can start panicking?” Mae suggested.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Or </em> we can keep a level head and try to think of a solution.” Bea answered.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yeah, if you want to be boring about it.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea rolled her eyes, and turned to the door.</p><p> </p><p>“...We have to break out somehow.” She said slowly. “That’s the only way to get out. The woman can’t hear us, and nobody else will be coming out here for at least a day or two.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe there’s an old saw around here or something?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea scowled at her.</p><p> </p><p>“What, the <em> old lady </em> just <em> happens </em> to be keeping a saw around?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just making a suggestion!” Mae answered, throwing up her hands. “Sheesh.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea looked up, and stared at the door silently. Mae stared up at the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s just a puzzle. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And you’re good at puzzles. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Just… think about it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Bea's right. That old woman can’t hear a thing. She can sleep through a four alarm fire, she said it herself. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then, suddenly, the solution came to her, as she subconsciously finished the line in her head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But that furnace… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“The only thing she could hear is that furnace…” Mae said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae glanced around, ignoring Bea. Bea, in turn, turned away again, staring at the door.</p><p> </p><p>Mae walked back towards the box, and grabbed the baseball bat that had been calling to her ever since she had seen it. It felt perfect in her hands, as if her odd, lanky yet too-short grip were made exactly for holding instruments of destruction.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well, there is one thing I’m good at. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And so, Mae walked forward slowly, and lifted the bat up. The firelight glinted on her face and lit up her eyes, and traced a perfect, shadowed silhouette behind her.</p><p> </p><p>And the bat fell.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crash! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crash! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And again. And again. And again, and again, and again and again andagainandagain<em> andagainand- </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crash! Crash! Crash! CRASH! CRASHCRASHCRASHCRASH- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Margaret, what the hell-!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shapes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Just shapes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Orange shapes against black shapes against blue shapes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Red shapes on the grass. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crash! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tears spilled down her face.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRASH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was a buzz in her ears, and her vision began to fade.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, her arm never tired.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRASHCRASHCRASHCR- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And, distantly, she heard the sound of Bea shouting at the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Mrs. Miranda! You locked us in!”</p><p> </p><p>And then, suddenly, the world was falling. The distant sound of wood -</p><hr/><p>- Against metal slowed, and she was on the other side of the river.</p><p> </p><p>And there was Casey, smiling at her.</p><p> </p><p>The bat fit perfectly in her hand.</p><p> </p><p>It fell. There was a torrent of blood, bursting from the ginger fur as the bat met its mark.</p><p> </p><p>Casey fell. The bat followed.</p><p> </p><p>Red shapes on blue shapes.</p><p> </p><p>Red shapes on the frozen lake.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Just shapes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And she heard singing.</p><p> </p><p>And, suddenly, she was falling again. There was the sickening feeling of falling in a dream, and her stomach went into her throat as -</p><hr/><p>- She was forced again into the world she knew.</p><p> </p><p>She heard the distant sound of the door unlocking.</p><p> </p><p>And she threw up.</p><p> </p><p>“Margaret? What’s going - woah!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea was suddenly next to her again, as she lifted her head and wiped her mouth. She smiled weakly at the girl.</p><p> </p><p>“Must’ve been something I ate.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea furrowed her brow, but accepted the answer, turning around smoothly as Mae’s world began to fall into place again.</p><p> </p><p>Mae glanced down at the now fallen bat, staring at the wooden, grainy surface. She knelt without input, and grasped at the bat. She turned it around slowly, staring at the side which had come in contact with the furnace, expecting a splatter of black coal dust or a splash of gasoline.</p><p> </p><p>And, instead, sitting almost innocently on the bat’s surface, a vivid red blood stain stared up at her.</p><p> </p><p>And Mae threw up again.</p><hr/><p>“July 25th.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae glanced up from her shoes for the first time in a bit, and turned to Bea. The crocodile had been eerily silent after the repair trip, sitting against a wooden support pillar and smoking in quiet contemplation.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s voice came out oddly soft. She wondered if Bea had noticed the blood stain on the bat.</p><p> </p><p>Mae wondered if it had even been real.</p><p> </p><p>It couldn’t have been, right? The light must’ve just caught a gasoline stain in a weird way.</p><p> </p><p><em> But… but it had looked </em> <span class="u"> <em> so </em> </span> <em> real. </em></p><p> </p><p>“My, uh, my birthday. It’s July 25th.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>There was silence again. But, this time, Mae was smiling softly into the dark field of long grass.</p><p> </p><p>Cicadas chirped.</p><p> </p><p>“God, I’m tired.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae turned to the sound of Bea’s voice, and smiled softly at her. For a moment, Mae almost thought that Bea smiled back, but the illusion was gone a moment later.</p><p> </p><p>It must have been a trick of the light.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I’m a bit tired, myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea didn’t respond.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna go check out that windmill a bit more. Wanna come?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea sighed slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“No thanks. You go on ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae hopped up, smiling softly still. She trotted off towards the car, and heard Bea call after her,</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t try to drive my car, either!”</p><p> </p><p>Mae couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of her throat, and the sound of ice on mallets rang throughout the deep, black forest.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...Maybe this will work out. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And she tried to ignore the sight, still lingering in the corners of her mind, of the splatter of blood on that bat.</p><p> </p><p>Except, it couldn’t have been blood. She would have been able to think that, to push away the thought easily.</p><p> </p><p>But…</p><p> </p><p>She had <em> smelled </em> blood, too.</p><p> </p><p>And a chill dripped down her spine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So! Chapter! Today! Yes!</p><p>And, as a side note, that means that I technically did continue my pattern of a chapter every day - even if I published the last one in the first four hours of yesterday and this one in the last hour of today.</p><p>It still counts, okay?</p><p>But, this brings me to something important - I really enjoyed doing this, but I had more then a few ideas that I wanted to get done in this chapter that I just didn't manage - especially in that last section when Bea tells Mae her birthday. So I might end up going back and editing that little section in a few days - I'll add that in the end chapter notes on the chapter I publish the day that I end up doing that.</p><p>Probably tomorrow.</p><p>Thoughts? Usually my end notes are longer, but I don't really have much to say, other then - thanks for all the support, and give me some thoughts! I absolutely adore reading comments, and if you all have any questions - preferably story related, but if you want to know my favorite cooking of steak, that's cool too - please leave them below.</p><p>Oh, and I'm sorry for taking a very large quantity of inspiration from the original fireflies on the porch scene in the game. I just really wanted to write a bit more MaeBea action, and I thought that this was a really great scene in the actual game, so I just couldn't resist stealing it. Credit again to Infinite Fall.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mae comes to a (for her) startling revelation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Credit to Infinite Fall and the late Alec Holowka</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bea pushed the door open and trudged into the dark, cold apartment.</p><p> </p><p>She flicked on the light with a single, practiced movement, and glanced around. The house was clean - or, at least, as clean as it would get - with the exception of the empty bottles and cans littering the table next to the couch.</p><p> </p><p>Bea sighed, and stepped forward, gathering up the cans and dumping them into the trash. She heard the sound of the bottles shattering, and could imagine the shards of glass winking up at her merrily from the bottom of the can.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>There had been something wrong.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The day had been... eventful, to say the least. Ans Bea had found, to her shock, that she was enjoying herself at more than one point in that dusty old house, despite the fact that that woman just <em>would not shut up. </em>She found it, honestly, more refreshing then she should have to have someone there with her, to confirm the hilarity and insanity of the situation.</p><p> </p><p>And Mae had even been...</p><p> </p><p>Well, not <em>nice</em>, exactly. That damn girl could never be anything better then mildly annoying.</p><p> </p><p>But she <em>had </em>been less hyper and flippant then usual - in other words, just mildly annoying. The best Bea could expect.</p><p> </p><p>And the tired crocodile found a not-quite smile on her face as she walked on heavy feet to the kitchen, and opened the fridge.</p><p> </p><p>She grabbed the amber-filled bottle, and a cup.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Would Mom have wanted this?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And Bea found that, to her discomfort, the thought took a bit longer then usual to stomp out completely. But, by the time she was pouring into the glass, it was well gone.</p><p> </p><p>She grabbed the cup.</p><p> </p><p>Hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>And drank.</p><p> </p><p>The familiar warmth and slight buzz ran through her in record time, and she leaned against the fridge and sighed out a relieved sigh.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But something had been wrong.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bea found that, with liquor in her veins, the tiny voice took up far more of her thoughts. And, suddenly, the images of the tiny cat girl beating into that furnace resurfaced in her mind, and brought the slight chill of dread with it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mae. Mae, so tiny and fragile. Mae, with arms a touch too long and a touch too thin. Mae, who was a head shorter then her. Mae, with those lazily content eyes and hypnotically waving tail.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mae, with that laugh that sounded like the twinkling of a chandelier.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Mae,</em> her brain suddenly reminded her, bringing her thoughts off the worrying track they had been taking, <em>w</em><em>ho beat the shit out of a furnace before vomiting.</em></p><p> </p><p>Bea Scowled heavily, stepping firmly to the stairs up to her room. She opened the door with a small creak, and found the familiar sight of piled boxes and a haphazardly made bed.</p><p> </p><p>And, to the left, a record player. She slipped a black, shiny, perfectly polished record out of its case, and put it on with a small scratch.</p><p> </p><p>And music played.</p><p> </p><p>And then, her thoughts returned to Mae. Her mind was slightly slow, lethargic, a little bit softer then usual - and it showed in the fact that she didn't even try to convince herself that she wasn't thinking about Mae.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Something... something had been wrong.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>That, she was sure of. Something had been wrong with Mae. She saw it, clear as day, in her mind - Mae, looking up at her with a shaky half-smile that seemed out of place on her face, wiping her mouth and saying in a voice that didn't sound like the one she knew so well already -</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Must've been something I ate."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bea snorted. It was dark and crackling with loathing when it came out her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>As if.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Something had been wrong. But, no matter how hard she tried, Bea couldn't think of what.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I mean, what could possibly be wrong with beating up a furnace, of all things?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And yet, her mind lingered on the image of that shaky half-smile, looking like it had been ripped off someone else's face and forced onto Mae's.</p><p> </p><p>And then, her mind returned to her largest question about Mae.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why did she drop out of college?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Because, for all Mae's assurances that it was something that 'would sound stupid any way I tried to put it,' Bea couldn't shake the impression that she was missing a large piece of the puzzle - and that learning why Mae had left college would give her that piece.</p><p> </p><p>And she saw that gratingly cheerful face again, grinning a cute grin at her.</p><p> </p><p>And she fell into a fitful slumber so quickly that she didn't even have time to consider her word choice.</p><p> </p><p>She dreamed of furnaces and baseball bats.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Bea!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea glanced up slowly, eyes tired and half-lidded. There, across from her, was the familiar wide-eyed gaze of Mae. She looked good - or at least, like she had gotten a decent amount of sleep. Ears up and twitching, red hair bouncing atop her head - in other words, as manic as usual.</p><p> </p><p>“Margaret,” she chanted, scratching at her cheek lazily. She thought that a flash lit in Mae’s eye, but it was gone before she could be sure.</p><p> </p><p>Mae stepped forward, hopping onto the counter and whistling tunelessly.</p><p> </p><p>“So, uh - got anything for me to do?”</p><p> </p><p>A beat.</p><p> </p><p>“Umm… no.”</p><p> </p><p>“No?!” Mae sounded absolutely shocked, and maybe a bit disappointed. Bea looked up at her.</p><p> </p><p>She was staring back, eyes wide. They were bright, bright yellow, with those dull red and black irises. Her pupils were sharp and dilated, and her paws were twitching compulsively.</p><p> </p><p>It was late - late enough for twilight to be flowing through the windows. The edges of the polished counters were sharp with harsh fluorescent light, but Mae looked impossibly soft, sitting atop the counter. The twilight in her eyes, the harsh light shining on her claws. The mix of sharp edges and soft planes.</p><p> </p><p>And eyes. Wide and bright and giddy.</p><p> </p><p>She looked…</p><p> </p><p>Soft.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, no. There’s only so much work in the world, Margaret.”</p><p> </p><p>“But… but I’m bored!”</p><p> </p><p>Mae sounded indignant. Bea snorted.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmhmm. Well, I’m afraid there isn’t even a bit of work to be done here, except maintaining the status quo - which just means me standing here until my shift is over.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well… what’re you doing after that?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea stared.</p><p> </p><p>“...What?”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing after that?” Mae repeated, more clearly. There was no mocking edge in her voice - instead, it sounded like Bea’s uncomprehension had come from misunderstanding the sounds, and not their meaning.</p><p> </p><p>“Umm… going to the store? Having dinner? You know… the usual?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae stared at her.</p><p> </p><p>“...What?” Bea asked finally.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Dinner?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bea furrowed her brow. Mae sounded…</p><p> </p><p>Too extreme for that to be without subtext.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. You know, the third meal of the day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea stared at her. Mae had closed her eyes and crossed her arms, looking away, like Bea was something that offended her on a chemical level.</p><p> </p><p>“...What? I can’t eat?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you can <em> eat. </em> But you have to use, you know… the right words.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea stared at her. Mae didn’t meet her gaze, keeping her closed eyes away from Bea.</p><p> </p><p>“...What would those be then.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Supper. </em> The right word is <em> supper. </em> You know, if you’re in Possum Springs, anyway.” Mae answered. She finally opened her eyes again -</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> (Soft, soft eyes.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-  and stared at her, spreading her arms widely. This was quite effective, considering that Mae was short but had the arm length of a normal person - giving her an odd, gangly look. Her sleeves slipped up, and exposed a bit more of her fur - including a perfect black patch that Bea automatically latched on to before returning her focus to the odd argument at hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Why would the<em> right </em> word change based on location?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because we’re <em> souuuutherners!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Mae exaggerated her light Minnesota drawl on the word, making it sound more like <em> suth-nurse </em> then southerners.</p><p> </p><p>“We use weird words! It’s what gives us our charm!” Mae grinned while she said this. At least, until -</p><p> </p><p>“Stop saying <em> us.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Her voice cracked.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...Uh oh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I just said that out loud. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s arms stayed spread, awkwardly hovering. Her eyes were wide.</p><p> </p><p>“...Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea resisted the urge to say <em> ‘huh?!?!’ </em> in an appropriately mocking manner.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Welp, I’ve already started. Might as well finish. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Stop saying ‘us’. <em> We </em> do not belong to the same group, unless the group is just me and you.”</p><p> </p><p>Her voice was dark and crackling. Mae looked shocked at the open vitriol in her tone.</p><p> </p><p><em>“You</em> are a <em>suth-nerr.</em> <em>I</em> am someone who was been <em>forced</em> into this <em>damn</em> town, and so, I <em>refuse</em> to lower myself to using language <em>that makes me sound like a -” </em></p><p> </p><p>Her hands slammed onto the table. She wasn’t quite sure when the tension had forced her shoulders into a razor sharp line, or when she had began to scream.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “GODDAMN HICK!!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Frozen.</p><p> </p><p>That was the only word for the atmosphere of the room. The air was heavy and thick, everything suspended in the moment that Bea had shouted, vitriol masking the bitterness in her voice. She breathed heavily, feeling like something toxic had just come out her chest.</p><p> </p><p>Mae had gotten off the counter at some point. She was curled up, staring up at her with wide, impossibly soft eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She…</p><p> </p><p>She felt <em> good. </em></p><p> </p><p>And that, really, was what made her back off.</p><p> </p><p>Terror. Pure terror lit in her breast, in that moment she realized that what she was feeling wasn’t bitterness or loathing, but a dark <em> triumph. </em> Seeing Mae, staring up at her, that softness that Bea found herself drawn to - drawn to like the prey who swim to the light of the angler fish, seeking salvation and finding something worse than nothing - that softness radiating from Mae’s every pore.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted it. She wanted it so badly, that it made her want to crush it out - to stamp that velvet and churn it to steel, so that she might affect that thing that stared up at her, forever hidden behind the glaze of eyes that she hated to look at.</p><p> </p><p>Seeing Mae - vulnerable to her action. It excited her.</p><p> </p><p>And that scared her.</p><p> </p><p>She backed off.</p><p> </p><p>Mae instantly uncurled slightly, the malleable line of her spine straightening near imperceptibly. Bea stepped back, her hands slipping off the counter and her feet unconsciously planting themselves on the ‘work spot,’ as she had mentally dubbed it so long ago.</p><p> </p><p>Mae was standing straight by the time Bea looked at her again.</p><p> </p><p>They stared across the counter at each other. Mae’s eyes were just a touch too wide, her paws just a little more curled up then normal. The dark velvet irises were curling and swaying withing their confines, like bottled flame. The yarney consistency was suddenly more clear - and Bea found herself subconsciously studying those eyes for the first time.</p><p> </p><p>Lines, thin and coloured, with a yarn like texture. The colour of individual strands varied - blue, and green, and even shades of pink in spots, though they never strayed too far from the dark, safe pallet of washed out greys. Every here and there, a strand would be too bright, would shine oddly in the light, and glitter in the pool of red. Like a piece of obsidian on a black ash field, sparkling and sharp.</p><p> </p><p>And the yellow. A field of wheat, pale and perfectly organized.</p><p> </p><p>It would make a nearly impossible jigsaw puzzle.</p><p> </p><p>...Bea had always liked jigsaw puzzles.</p><p> </p><p>She wondered, distantly, what Mae was thinking, as she stared back into her eyes. Probably nothing.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>What was <em> she </em> thinking?</p><p> </p><p>She had lost track. She tried, in vein, to grasp at the thoughts - they were like slippery eels, evading her grasp with acuity.</p><p> </p><p>She only managed to gather a vague feeling, like a low flame burning in her gut.</p><p> </p><p>She suddenly remembered that she was in the middle of a heavy, awkward silence.</p><p> </p><p>“...So… yeah, no work.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae didn’t respond for a moment. Then, she grinned - bright and easy.</p><p> </p><p>It was so convincing that Bea could almost believe nothing had happened.</p><p> </p><p>...Should that worry her?</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Well, since you <em> apparently </em> plan on having sup -”</p><p> </p><p>An awkward beat.</p><p> </p><p>“Dinner,” Mae picked up smoothly, riding over the small pothole in the sentence with barely a blink of an eye, “I think I have a wonderful solution to several issues.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea squinted suspiciously.</p><p> </p><p>“...Should I run screaming now? It feels like I should run screaming now.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae laughed. It was bright, and cheery, and the sound of ice on mallets bounced around the room - and, in an instant, any tension still in the room vanished without a trace.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you <em> wish </em> you could outrun me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” Bea said slowly, starting to turn. “I’ll just go ahead and get a head start…”</p><p> </p><p>Mae grabbed her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t sure what, exactly, was so wrong with the feeling that spread from her shoulder. It was unfamiliar, but not incredibly scary - not on its own, anyway. It could have easily been produced by the leap of static electricity, that tell-tale spark that sometimes stung your finger when you touched a metal doorknob or, yes, someone else.</p><p> </p><p>But it wasn’t quite right. It was both too strong and too weak, like a phantom of a lightning strike, and it spread too far - a kind of empty numbness left in its wake. It was far more like the one time she had been <em> really </em> shocked - it left a kind of numbness, as well, except it didn’t feel this…</p><p> </p><p>Empty. Like no sensation mattered anymore, when compared to the strength of that spark.</p><p> </p><p>She turned sharply, shaking the hand off. She found herself yearning, for a moment, for the warmth of that furry paw - somehow, the nuances that had eluded her about the sensation came in full force. The sensation of oddly soft yet slightly scratchy fur, and the warm, perfectly smooth pads.</p><p> </p><p>She shook the feeling, and found that, once gone, she couldn’t even quite remember what it had felt like in the first place - or what she had thought of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Again, Bea - you have no hope of escape from the horror that is your’s truly.” Mae grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn.” She said mechanically - though, even when on autopilot, she managed a decent amount of sarcasm.  “My hopes, dashed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep. That was my nickname in high school - the HopeDasher. I made a t-shirt with it and everything.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae’s tone was so matter-of-fact that Bea almost found herself wondering if that had even been a joke.</p><p> </p><p>“But anyway,” the excitable cat went on, bouncing happily on her heels, “I hereby propose that we both eat - together! At a restaurant!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea stared at her blankly.</p><p> </p><p>“You know… as friends!” She went on, voice slightly less chipper.</p><p> </p><p>Bea suddenly had an inescapable desire to know how long Mae would keep talking if she just kept staring.</p><p> </p><p>“Like… food?”</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>“...Umm… you know… at a place where they give you food? For money?”</p><p> </p><p>Silence. Bea had to bite her tongue to keep her lips from twitching. Mae looked tense and confused, and maybe a little worried.</p><p> </p><p>“...My treat?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea decided that Mae would never stop talking. And, as funny as it would be to see her make an ass of herself, her stomach was starting to revolt.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae brightened instantly, the sharp twitching of her paws vanishing. She slung on a jacket <em> (Where the hell did she get that?) </em> and stepped to the door, flinging it open for Bea.</p><p> </p><p>She scowled slightly, but stepped through anyway. She couldn’t help but leave a parting shot, though.</p><p> </p><p>“You broke it.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae made a noise like a stepped on mouse, darting around the corner and staring at the glass door. Bea smirked, sliding into the car and cranking it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hm. Maybe this won’t be so bad. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> This is bad. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...Why the hell did I let Mae pick the place? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She sat on an uncomfortable stool in the middle of McDonald’s, (the only place in Possum Springs without an animal in the name. Bea assumed that this god-forsaken place would invade every corner of the map no matter what) staring across a linoleum pattern but almost certainly <em> not </em> actual linoleum table. Mae reached across to the cheap plastic tray, picking up a quarter pounder with cheese and biting into it with relish.</p><p> </p><p>Bea reluctantly reached across and grabbed a fry, biting into it.</p><p> </p><p>...It was cold.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did I agree to this again?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I’m paying?” Mae offered, mouth half full of burger. Bea glanced away with a disgusted look, rolling her fingers smoothly against the table and adjusting her position on the hard stool.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t help.</p><p> </p><p>There was a silent beat, the harshly lit restaurant lights glaring down at her.</p><p> </p><p>It occurred to her that she might hate fluorescents for the remainder of her life.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m seven again.” Bea said tiredly, looking around reluctantly. The place smelled of bleach and every surface was polished, and yet, she still felt <em> gross </em> sitting on this stool again. “You know, I hated this place even then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea almost expected Mae to sound indignant, but instead, she sounded intensely curious. The crocodile glanced back around to her, running a hand down her face and sighing.</p><p> </p><p>“Because it always felt like <em> children. </em> Even when it was empty, it felt like little toddlers might run into one of my legs and slobber on it.” She scowled. “And plus, it makes me feel <em> dirty </em> to eat this food. Like I’m stained with grease for the next week.”</p><p> </p><p>“I love this place.” Mae answered. There was no indecent glee in her voice, though - instead, she genuinely sounded <em> caring. </em> “Eating food like this… it makes me feel so…”</p><p> </p><p>Mae smiled down at her burger. It might even have been loving enough to affect Bea, if it wasn’t directed at a <em> burger. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Normal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.” Bea answered instantly. “That’s why it sucks.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae furrowed her brow at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon.” Bea corrected absently.</p><p> </p><p>Mae made a vaguely questioning noise.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t sat ‘huh’. Say pardon. Saying <em> huh </em> like that makes you sound like an idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well <em> pardon </em> me,” Mae answered, grinning, “if I can’t meet your question asking standards.”</p><p> </p><p>“No need for all that,” Bea said, flapping a mocking hand at her like royalty. “Just a small tribute will do.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae laughed. The sound of ice on mallets bounced around, and a nearby group of three glanced over curiously.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s why this place sucks, I said.” Bea said, picking up smoothly from where she’d left odd. “It makes me feel like just another denizen of Possum Springs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hah. <em> Denizen.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Bea rolled her eyes. “Mature as always, Margaret.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae furrowed her brow. Bea gave her a curious look, but she seemed to shake off her confusion, and answered,</p><p> </p><p>“Why would that make you… angry? Bitter? ...Vitriolic?”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go with angry.” Bea’s lip twitched. “You and four syllable words don’t mix.”</p><p> </p><p>“Angry, then. My question stands either way.” Mae tapped two of her claws rapidly, one after the other.</p><p> </p><p>Bea glanced at the claws. Once Mae saw the look, she stopped.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t… nevermind.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t just do that!” Mae said. She sounded indignant. “Make a statement and then just cut it off! That’s like… the world’s worst cliffhanger!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea couldn’t stop the snort that left her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“You… you wouldn’t get it. I might as well say it in latin, for all you’d understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“First of all,” Mae answered, ticking it off on one finger, “I actually studied Latin in college, so yes, it would make just as much sense. And secondly,” Mae ticked off another finger, “try me.”</p><p> </p><p>She tapped both the outstretched fingers on the end of Bea’s snout. She wrinkled her nose.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Finish the statement.” Mae counter-demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like this town, okay?” Bea said finally, glaring at her. “I don’t like being a member of it, I don’t like living in it, and I don’t like feeling like I live here any more then I have to. <em> Especially </em> not when I’m trying to eat.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae didn’t respond, for a moment. She stared across at Bea, and then glanced down, staring at her paws. Then, her head fell back, and she stared up at the ceiling, lacing her hands across her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“That last reason was put in a very confusing way.” She said absently.</p><p> </p><p>“...What?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae grinned, still staring up at the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon.” She corrected.</p><p> </p><p>Bea couldn’t help but smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, go to hell.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae snorted.</p><p> </p><p>There was a silent beat.</p><p> </p><p>“Well…”</p><p> </p><p>Mae stared up at the ceiling still. She seemed to collect her thoughts, before saying quietly -</p><p> </p><p>“You know... every day, I hop up to the rooftops. I talk to people through windows - they’re usually a bit pissed off, but nobody’s called the cops yet - I mess with dogs, I stare out at the sky - you know, the usual.”</p><p> </p><p>“But, up at the top of one of the taller buildings, there’s this a-frame roof. And I used to go and sit on it, as a kid, whenever I had something to think about.”</p><p> </p><p>She snorted. It sounded more bitter then usual.</p><p> </p><p>“It nearly became my home away from home, after -”</p><p> </p><p>She stopped suddenly.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway,” she went on. Bea almost wanted to interrupt, but refrained.</p><p> </p><p>“Apparently, while I was gone, another kid found out about it. Her name is Lori, and, when I met her, she came across as… you know, just another face in the crowd. I talked to her, and she was kind of an ass - she knew about a… let’s say <em> embarrassing </em> incident from when I lived here as a kid, and she reminded me about it in a very harsh manner. I don’t think she meant to be rude, but…”</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged. Bea absently thought that it was odd that a sentence could end with a shrug, but she could still understand the message.</p><p> </p><p>She tucked that thought away for later, though.</p><p> </p><p>Mae was surprisingly interesting to listen to, when she was serious.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, I found her up on the roof after that. And we talked.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae paused thoughtfully.</p><p> </p><p>“She likes horror movies, and practical effects. She lives out of town, out by the tracks. She wants to be a filmmaker. She watches old Dracula flicks, and VHSes, and is… well, <em> cool. </em> And it took me going up there, every day, and just <em> talking </em> to her to find that out.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae glanced down again, staring into her milkshake. It was half-melted at this point, slightly thinner then it should be. She swirled her straw around in it, with a small smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t really like this town that much, either. Or at least, not the <em> space. </em> It’s got that abandoned glass factory that’s like, supper creepy and a total safety hazard, and that playground nobody has been in for like, ten years, and all this pointless <em> stuff </em> that I just want to… be rid of.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae finally looked up, and met her eye.</p><p> </p><p>“But Possum Springs isn’t a patch of land in the middle of the south. It’s… Lori. And Selmers. And Mr. Chazakov. And… well, and <em> you.” </em></p><p> </p><p>She picked up a cold fry, and popped it into her mouth triumphantly.</p><p> </p><p>“And that’s why I like McDonald’s.” She said royally.</p><p> </p><p>A pause.</p><p> </p><p>“Even though these fries are cold,” she said with a grimace, taking a heavy drag of her milkshake.</p><p> </p><p>Bea couldn’t help but laugh again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Nope.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae moaned disappointedly, though there was a wide grin on her face. She stretched the burger in her hand forward, wiggling it teasingly.</p><p> </p><p>“Come <em> on, </em> Bea, live a little!”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Come to the dark side, Bea. </em> Try the burger.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea shook her head. “Uh-uh.”</p><p> </p><p>“...Please?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea snorted.</p><p> </p><p><em> “No, </em>Margaret.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae paused thoughtfully, pulling the burger back. Bea furrowed her brow in confusion (probably because Mae had refrained from insisting that she try the burger) but didn’t question the decision.</p><p> </p><p>The cat looked down again, staring across the table at Bea.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...Maragret. She always calls me Margaret. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She considered pressing the issue.</p><p> </p><p>“Margaret? You’re kinda creeping me out.” Bea said, leaning back.</p><p> </p><p>Mae snorted slightly, turning away.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. Just… thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea raised an eyebrow. “You can do that? Silently?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae rolled her eyes, grinning fondly.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, go to hell, you damn crocodile.”</p><p> </p><p>She said ‘you’ with a slight boston accent, making it sound more like <em> ya. </em></p><p> </p><p>“But seriously. What is there to think about?” Bea raised a hand, gesturing to the space behind her. “I mean, we’re in <em> McDonald’s, </em> for christ’s sake. This is the <em> last </em> place to go if you want quiet contemplation.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae chuckled. It trailed off, tapering out to an awkward silence as Bea stared at her expectantly.</p><p> </p><p>“Margaret?” Bea said finally. She sounded slightly hesitant, and maybe (though it might have been wishful thinking on Mae’s part) a little concerned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mae. Say Mae. Correct her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m already on thin ice, though. This is going well. I don’t wanna mess it up. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is it? Is it going well? Because she’s calling you by your full name, and, even if it is… it would be even better if she would use your nickname. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Everyone calls me that, it isn’t like that would be a sign of friendship. It doesn’t matter. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She repressed the urge to scowl. She pasted on a smile, and answered,</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. Just trying to remember a book I read as a kid.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea looked suspicious, but answered obediently,</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the plot? I might have read it, I could help you remember.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was a mystery, I think,” Mae answered slowly, twirling her straw in her now empty milkshake glass. “And in the end, it turned out it was the museum curator, and he had killed his own wife.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick, officer.” Bea answered. A moment later, her eyes flashed with something Mae couldn’t pinpoint.</p><p> </p><p>She ignored it, though, and grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Mustard is a liar, officer - I swear it was Mrs. Peacock!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea chuckled, but absently corrected,</p><p> </p><p><em> “Colonel </em> Mustard.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae groaned.</p><p> </p><p>“Of <em> course </em> you would know that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know all.” Bea deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>“And your so humble, too.” Mae tried to repress the twitching of her lips, and her tone managed to come out unwavering.</p><p> </p><p>...They only lasted for a moment of eye contact before busting out laughing.</p><p> </p><p>A few nearby groups glanced over curiously, as the sound of laughter bounced around the walls of the restaurant. Ice on mallets was the dominating sound, but Mae, almost subconsciously, focused on the sound of Bea’s laugh.</p><p> </p><p>It was the first real, <em> long </em> laugh she had heard from Bea. The others had been short, repressed - almost like it was trying to stifle itself before it even left her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>But this one was unshackled, and was laced with pure, unadulterated <em> glee. </em> It was warm, dark and low, oddly grey and bittersweet - maybe it was the slight rasp, or the way her fingers clenched.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, it was so…</p><p> </p><p><em> Beautiful </em> wasn’t quite the right word. Well, no, it <em> was, </em> it was most certainly beautiful, as far as Mae was concerned - but that wasn’t quite the right way to quantify the emotion in her stomach, the odd curdling in her gut, hot and uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>It was the oddest clash of sensation - the desire to squirm away from the feeling, and yet, the urge to curl up in it, to wriggle into the light and feel the hot sensation of thick, curdling oil fill her.</p><p> </p><p>...Oh crap.</p><p> </p><p>She was turned on.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ...This might be bad. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I KNOW THE GAME IS SET IN PENNSYLVANIA YOU DON'T NEED TO TELL ME.</p><p>Umm, I don't really have time to make my usual overly-long end note, so I'll simply say - I haven't gotten my laptop yet, so thank you to my flatmate Michael for letting me use his. This chapter is dedicated to him - thanks again, Michael.</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Interlude: Burning Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just a short little something to tide you over.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The midnight blue cat glanced up from her book. Her eyes were a grayish red, and her teeth glinted slightly from behind her lips - pulled as they were into an expression of frustration - at least, until she looked up from the textbook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Across from her, stood a ginger cat. His expression was one of utmost politeness, and his hand was gestured to the chair across from her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mind if I sit here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Mae answered shortly, looking down at her textbook again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t mind, or no, don’t sit there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae glanced up. The ginger cat was smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind.” She answered, looking him in the eye. His smile widened as Mae looked down again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stared down at the book, furrowing her brow. The cat leaned across, looking at the upside-down page curiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha workin’ on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae scowled down at the book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Social Studies.” She answered shortly, putting her head in her hands with a frustrated growl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Not a fan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae just groaned again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ginger cat scooted forward, smiling again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, then -” He closed the book with a light </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Why’re you doing it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I don’t want to fail?” Mae offered in response, lifting her head. She didn’t look very angry that he had closed the book, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-hmm.” The ginger cat hummed. “Well, I’m sure it will be waiting for you later. Why not go… do something illegal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s eyes lit up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Illegal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” The ginger cat answered, grinning now. He stuck his hand forward. “Casey Hartley, agent of chaos, at your service.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae shook it. Her eyes were sparkling now, and her lips were twitching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mae Borowski.” She answered. “I confess, my dearest agent of chaos, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>deeply</span>
  </em>
  <span> intrigued by this talk of that which does not follow the law.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Mae,” Casey answered, grinning still, “Me and my friend Gregg were thinking of, say… going down to the high school and trying to set off all the fire alarms?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was grinning too, now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Mr. Hartley -” She answered, before pausing. “...Wait. Does that mean just trying to set them off, or burning the school down?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Which would you want to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae just grinned wider in response.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae tossed and turned in bed, trying in vain to rid her head of cobwebs and bothersome thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Goddammit, I am so fucked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I like Bea.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> like Bea.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, I wanna fuck Bea. Might as well just put it as it is.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanna…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, it would start,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought distractedly, her tossing abating slightly as she stopped trying to fight the thought and let it play out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>By a nice day out. We would go, and do some job - and Bea would be her normal, sarcastic self, but she’d secretly smile at my jokes, and laugh that laugh of hers. The real one, the gleeful, manic one, not that short little half-laugh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And then, we’d both sit down on a nearby patch of grass of pile of logs. Close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I’d only have to lean the tiniest bit to -</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae shook her head firmly, tossing in her bed again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...No. No, I can’t like Bea. Bea hates me, remember? ‘Drink my lifeblood,’ and all that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...I’m screwed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tossed again. No position was comfortable - and she might need another shower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A cold one, this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so, so screwed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...And so, so whipped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned again, burrowing herself in the pillows and groaning frustratedly into the sheets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Yeah, she was gonna take that shower now.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Maybe, just maybe, I'll someday get that laptop and get a consistent upload schedule again.</p><p>Until then, just some Mae memories. ...Maemories.</p><p>...I'm sorry.</p><p>Ateoe;Hota,</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Vignette: Life's Bittersweet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bea has the oddest feeling she's forgetting something.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mae walked down the alley, feet bouncy and light. She impulsively dragged her hand down the brick walls, kicking off the ground, skipping on the pavement. The world was a soup of sharp color and bright shapes, and everything looked so… <em> real. </em> So <em> meaningful. </em></p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t sure what the sensation in her chest was.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she should have been anxious. Maybe she should be disappointed. Maybe she should mourn her friendship with Bea, who’s chances at survival had been heavily cut by a single swoop in her gut.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she shouldn’t feel like the horizon spilled out like an overflowing milk glass, and she was floating on the top. Maybe the air shouldn’t have felt like sugar, and maybe she shouldn’t be floating along with more giddiness then ever before.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>But then again, maybe not.</p><p> </p><p>The world spilled out at her fingertips, and the air crackled and sparked before her eyes. Every whip of wind was a beckoning call to run free into the streets, and the world seemed to fizz and pop like sparkling water.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t help but feel like everything was just…</p><p> </p><p>“Magnifique!” She shouted happily, finally answering the whispers of the wind in her ear and the beckoning peaches on trees. She ran down the street, arms out and whipping wildly. She hopped back and forth, and the energy rolled off her in waves and sparkled in the air like glitter.</p><p> </p><p>She laughed.</p><p> </p><p>She was <em> free. </em></p><p> </p><p>Her feet scraped on the pavement, and she skated along without a care. She bumped into someone, and what left her mouth wasn’t the intended apology, but instead, an unhinged laugh that spilled into the streets.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t feel their glare on her back. She didn’t feel the pebbles that were flying from her feet and bouncing on her legs.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t feel a thing but the whipping wind.</p><p> </p><p>And there was Bea.</p><p> </p><p>She welcomed the pressure on her chest like an old friend, and realized for the first time that it had pressed on her ever since she had seen Bea cut her hand. She skid to a stop with a laugh, and grinned wildly at the crocodile.</p><p> </p><p>Bea stared at her like she was crazy.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she was.</p><p> </p><p>“BeeBee!” She cried happily, impulsively, laughing at the nickname before she had a chance to really process it.</p><p> </p><p>Bea stared at her. She giggled.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s up?” She asked happily, leaning against the brick wall of The Ol’ Pickaxe.</p><p> </p><p>Bea glanced down and shook her head slightly, though Mae could’ve sworn she had a small, fond smile on her lips.</p><p> </p><p>By the time she had looked up, though, it was gone - replaced with uncomprehension. She flicked away the cigarette in her fingers, and raised an eyebrow at Mae.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s got you so… happy-go-lucky?”</p><p> </p><p>Bea said the term like it disgusted her. Mae laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Life, </em> Bea. <em> Life.” </em></p><p> </p><p>She said it like it was some profound thought. Bea snorted.</p><p> </p><p>“Life isn’t anything to be excited about, Margaret.”</p><p> </p><p>“Says you!” She responded, grinning at the familiar banter. “Life is awesome! You get to, like, <em> do stuff. </em> That’s something that no dead person can lay claim to!”</p><p> </p><p>Bea rolled her eyes, leaning against the streetlamp by the Pickaxe once more.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhm. Well, I’m afraid that, while the pros may outweigh the cons, life isn’t exactly the smoothest sailing ship around.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps not, BeeBee,” She responded, taken with the nickname for some reason she couldn’t pinpoint. “But I’m on a particularly straight path right now towards <em> happiness.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Bea snorted again.</p><p> </p><p>“That might genuinely be the most ridiculously cheesy thing you’ve ever said.” Bea got up from the lamp, walking towards the door to the Pickaxe and saying over her shoulder, “And that’s saying something.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea paused, door wide open.</p><p> </p><p>“And don’t call me that.” She added as an afterthought.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s too late, <em> BeeBee. </em>” Mae crowed as she stepped in after her. “It’s already stuck.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’ll just have to think of some stupid nickname for you then.” Bea answered, hopping behind the counter.</p><p> </p><p>Mae grinned happily as she did. She had never noticed that Bea didn’t bother using the trapdoor… gate… thing.</p><p> </p><p>It just made her all the more endearing.</p><p> </p><p>“No, that won’t work.” Bea went on, looking up thoughtfully. “You’ll just like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ding-ding-ding!” Mae answered like ringing a bell, grinning. “What do we have for her, Johnny?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae stepped to the side and turned to where she had just been, deepening her voice and answering,</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Ms. Borowski, we have for our favorite crocodile,” following a sudden impulse, she tacked on, “Who, as a side note, is just <em> stunning, </em> if I do say so myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Mae actually, genuinely almost <em> squealed </em> when Bea <em> blushed. </em> She scowled and glared at her, but the effect was minimal when that blush was so damn <em> cute. </em></p><p> </p><p>“A month long trip to the Bahamas! Sun tan lotion, bikinis and boat crew conga lines are in your near future, Ms…”</p><p> </p><p>Bea was scowling, but that’s not why Mae paused.</p><p> </p><p>“For some reason, I can’t see it.” Bea answered.</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause.</p><p> </p><p>“...Margaret, you aren’t normally so… not annoying.” Bea said suddenly, tilting her head. “What caused this, and how do I make it repeat?”</p><p> </p><p>Mae smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I just realized you’ve never told me your last name.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea stiffened so sharply and suddenly that Mae felt a spark of concern light in her gut.</p><p> </p><p>“...Bea? You okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Course, Margaret.” Bea answered, tension leaving her shoulders so quickly that Mae could tell it was forced. “Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p> </p><p>“No idea, but you aren’t.” She answered instantly, concern seeping into her voice too rapidly. “What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“My ever-growing contempt for you?” Bea offered tiredly, though it sounded forced.</p><p> </p><p>“Ha and ha. Really, Bea.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Really, </em> Margaret. <em> Nothing.” </em>Bea repeated.</p><p> </p><p>She glared. If Mae hadn’t known her as well as she did, she might have even been offended.</p><p> </p><p>As is, she was just more concerned.</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause. Bea looked away.</p><p> </p><p>“...Okay, want to try again yet?” Mae raised an eyebrow. “This time, <em> do </em> try not to scowl so heavily.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea didn’t respond. Mae sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Mae rolled her eyes. “Maybe one day, I’ll finally crack open that head of your’s and peek inside.”</p><p> </p><p>She hopped onto the counter and, feeling oddly impulsive as always, rubbed the top of Bea’s head like she was ruffling imaginary hair.</p><p> </p><p>Bea pulled away with a glare, but Mae simply grinned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Life really is going just <span class="u">too</span> well.</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The slam of the car door was just as disconcertingly sharp as Bea remembered it being. It spilled out over the street, and a few people making their daily commute glanced over curiously at the sound.</p><p> </p><p>The car had always been a piece of junk, held together by duct tape and spite. Every passing day there seemed to be a new problem with it - some unique noise it was making, or the blinking 'check engine' light, or a tire being slightly raised up. The pieces rattled, loose with age, and the rolling sound of wheels was too often interrupted by a sharp bump or little crackle. Bea had long since stopped being concerned by these noises, and, at this point, simply found them annoying. And that damn check engine light had been on for <em>years.</em></p><p> </p><p>Bea stepped up to the Pickaxe, but paused. After a short, indecisive moment, she leaned against the nearby lamppost, and lit a smoke.</p><p> </p><p>There was only so much she could take without her morning cigarette.</p><p> </p><p>She inhaled as deeply as she could, and a familiar sense of instant relief flowed over her - like an itch being scratched. She sighed lightly, smoke filtering through her nostrils, and her head fell against the cold metal at her back. Her windbreaker hugged her form snugly, and the harsh bite of cold wind nipped at the exposed skin of her face.</p><p> </p><p>She took another puff. She blew smoke through her teeth.</p><p> </p><p>She smoked.</p><p> </p><p>And, with every passing second, she felt a little better.</p><p> </p><p>Well, <em>better.</em> Better implies that she had been doing good before. More like <em>less awful.</em> Maybe <em>okay.</em></p><p> </p><p>Yeah. Every passing breath made her a little more okay.</p><p> </p><p>The world rolled by, unaware of her conundrums. Cars passed and horns blared, people walked by (some of them throwing her scowls, which she was happy to return), and the wind howled, as it always did in Possum Springs Fall. She hadn't lived here very long - a few years, maybe - but she already knew the schedule of the weather, passing every year like clockwork.</p><p> </p><p>It really was perfectly situated on earth for every season to be uniquely awful. Wet spring, hot Summer, cold Fall, freezing Winter. All of them with unique little problems that made them all just a little bit dreadful.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Heh. Bet Margaret loves Fall.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Oh yes, that much Bea was sure of. Mae had probably fallen in love with Fall since she was a child. The annoying construction, the loud trains and the bothersome leaves - all probably nostalgic childhood icons for that damn cat.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Lucky bitch.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Heh. Margaret in a nutshell. 'Lucky bitch'.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bea chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>And winced, as a sudden shower of pebbles assaulted her. She heard a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Speak of the devil...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bea turned to Mae with a glare (which she hoped conveyed appropriately how much she thought Mae was crazy), to which the cat merely grinned (nope).</p><p> </p><p>"BeeBee!" She cried, sounding far too happy about finding <em>Bea,</em> of all people.</p><p> </p><p>Bea blinked at the nickname. Well, at the nickname, and at the oddly fond tone it had been said in.</p><p> </p><p>Before she could interject (likely with a flat 'don't call me that') Mae giggled giddily. Bea had the oddest, shortest moment when her thoughts were suddenly derailed by a tiny, but painful spark flying in her gut.</p><p> </p><p>Mae leaned against a wall a moment later, calming her features from 'manically giddy' to 'a tad too cheerful'.</p><p> </p><p>"What's up?" She asked happily. Bea almost expected her to add 'dawg' at the end, but luckily, she apparently hadn't gone <em>completely </em>insane.</p><p> </p><p>Bea hung and shook her head - not even really at the craziness itself, but more because she had grown <em>used</em> to this kind of insanity.</p><p> </p><p>And she would deny to her dying hour that there was a smile tugging at her lips.</p><p> </p><p>She glanced up after a moment, raising a mockingly curious eyebrow and flicking away the smoldering remains of her cigarette.</p><p> </p><p>"What's got you so..."</p><p> </p><p>Bea searched for the right word. When her mind came up with one, she thought it couldn't have fit better - though the term alone made her want to claw her own eyes out.</p><p> </p><p>"Happy-go-lucky?"</p><p> </p><p>Mae laughed. The sound of ice on mallets bounced around in Bea's ears, and an odd kind of pressure momentarily pressed on her ribcage, hot and uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Life,</em> Bea." Mae answered, mockingly philosophical. "<em>Life.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Bea couldn't help the snort that spilled out her mouth, though it came out just a little bit mocking to make up for it.</p><p> </p><p>"Life isn't anything to be excited about, Margaret."</p><p> </p><p>She said it with less certainty then she had intended.</p><p> </p><p>Mae grinned.</p><p> </p><p>"Says you! Life is <em>awesome!"</em> She threw her arms in the air for emphasis. "You get to, like - <em>do stuff.</em> That's something that no dead person can lay claim to!"</p><p> </p><p>Bea rolled her eyes. The movement was as familiar and easy as waving.</p><p> </p><p>"Mmmhmm." She hummed. "Well I'm afraid that - while the pros <em>may</em>outweigh the cons - life isn't exactly the smoothest sailing ship around."</p><p> </p><p>"Perhaps not," Mae admitted.</p><p> </p><p>"Beebee," she went on, instantly invalidating any triumph Bea might have been feeling.</p><p> </p><p>"But I'm on a particularly straight path right now towards <em>happiness."</em></p><p> </p><p>Mae said the word like it was some mystical other world.</p><p> </p><p><em>Maybe it is,</em> a tiny voice whispered in her ear, as Bea straightened from the lamppost and dug into her pockets for her keys.</p><p> </p><p>"That might genuinely be the most ridiculously cheesy thing you've ever said." Bea said sardonically, pulling out her keys and rifling through them. "And that's saying something."</p><p> </p><p>She fit the right key into the slot, and opened the door wide.</p><p> </p><p>"And don't call me that." She added.</p><p> </p><p>Mae's voice was positively <em>evil</em> as she answered,</p><p> </p><p>"It's too late, <em>BeeeBeeee.</em> It's already stuck."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I'll just have to think of some stupid nickname for you then." Bea decided, hopping behind the counter with barely a thought and leaning against it.</p><p> </p><p>She looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.</p><p> </p><p>"No, that won't work, you'll just like it."</p><p> </p><p>Mae rung a fake bell with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>"What do we have for her, Johnny?" She went on, in a voice surprisingly reminiscent of Garbo from <em>Garbo and Malloy.</em></p><p> </p><p>...And of <em>course</em> Mae watches Garbo and Malloy, why had Bea expected anything different?</p><p> </p><p>"Well, Ms. Borowski," Mae went on, taking the role of Malloy with a significantly less accurate impression, "we have for our favorite crocodile - who, as a side note, is just <em>stunning,</em> if I do say so myself-"</p><p> </p><p>Bea was mortified by the heat that crawled up her cheeks. She glared her fiercest glare at Mae, but the cat merely grinned unrepentantly.</p><p> </p><p>The heat only began to fade when Bea realized that - <em>of <span class="u">course</span> she's joking. It's just for the bit.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ha. As if anyone would find ME attractive.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ridiculous. Of course it's for the joke.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>...So why had she felt an odd rush of...</p><p> </p><p>Confusion, she decided the emotion had been.</p><p> </p><p>Confusion. Just confusion.</p><p> </p><p>"-A month long trip to the Bahamas! Sun tan lotion, bikinis and boat crew conga lines are in your near future, Ms…”</p><p> </p><p>Bea's scowl was back on her face in an instant. The image Mae had just drawn was far too... <em>clandestine.</em></p><p> </p><p>"For some reason, I can't see it." Bea said sardonically.</p><p> </p><p>When Mae didn't respond, she glanced over. She had her brow furrowed, and was looking at the ground.</p><p> </p><p>"Margaret? You aren't normally so -"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Quiet.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"-Not annoying. What caused this-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Are you okay?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"And how do I make it repeat?"</p><p> </p><p>Mae looked up, and smiled shyly. Another spark flew in Bea's gut.</p><p> </p><p>When she tried to track the feeling, it vanished like smoke.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry. Just realized you've never told me your last name."</p><p> </p><p>The sudden grip of panic, tight on her spine, was both unexpected and unwelcome.</p><p> </p><p>"...Bea?"</p><p> </p><p>The actual <em>concern</em> in Mae's voice made the panic grip tighter.</p><p> </p><p>"You okay?"</p><p> </p><p>Bea instantly slipped on the familiar mask. It shuddered her emotions and hugged her face like an old friend, and the line of her shoulders fell. She answered with a complete lack of concern,</p><p> </p><p>"'Course, Margaret. Why wouldn't I be?"</p><p> </p><p>Mae raised an incredulous eyebrow, though something sparked and lit in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"No idea, but you aren't." Mae answered, in a <em>you can't slip that past me</em> tone. Though there was an underflowing current of something warm that Bea couldn't pinpoint in her tone, too. </p><p> </p><p>"...What's up?" She said, more quietly this time. And, without that incredulous tone, Bea could easily pinpoint the emotion.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Concern.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The panic curled around her stomach, squeezing sharply.</p><p> </p><p>"My ever-growing contempt for you?" She offered, the mask not cracking.</p><p> </p><p>Below that, though, she was slipping in a pool of inky black terror, unsure why she was suddenly afraid.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Keep her out.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was a whisper in her ear.</p><p> </p><p>There was no denying it.</p><p> </p><p>"Ha and ha." Mae answered sardonically. "Really, Bea."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Really, </em>Margaret." She emphasized mockingly. "<em>Nothing.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>The glare fell from her eyes and onto Mae before she was even really aware of it.</p><p> </p><p>When Mae didn't break eye contact, Bea looked away.</p><p> </p><p>“...Okay, want to try again yet?” Mae offered. “This time, <em>do </em>try not to scowl so heavily.”</p><p> </p><p>Bea decided that that didn't warrant a response.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Mae rolled her eyes. “Maybe one day, I’ll finally crack open that head of your’s and peek inside.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>No!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was an effort not to shout it aloud.</p><p> </p><p>Mae ruffled her scales affectionately. Bea just managed to catch herself and pull away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why can't my life ever get <span class="u">easier</span>?</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>...Borowski.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The name came back to her suddenly, that night, laying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling - waiting for sleep to come.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Borowski. Margaret called herself 'Ms. Borowski.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bea furrowed her brow. It was something odd, like an itch in the back of her mind - a half-faded memory wriggling in discomfort somewhere in her head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Borowski. Margaret Borowski.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>...That name was <em>so</em> familiar, for some reason.</p><p> </p><p>She tried to track the memory down - but, as Bea could have guessed, it didn't work.</p><p> </p><p><em>...Eh. I'm sure it'll come to me.</em> She thought easily, closing her eyes again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Plus, how important could it really be if I've forgotten it?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hmm... why would Bea have possibly heard that name...?</p><p>Who knows. I'm sure it's nothing to concern ourselves with.</p><p>Okay, so - tomorrow, I'm going to hopefully get an actual full chapter out. </p><p>AtEoE; HotA,</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Interlude: Happy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beatrice Santello is a music fan.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>I shouldn’t do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hesitated at the door, hand lifting from the handle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I shouldn’t do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hand reached up, and grasped the sign on the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I shouldn’t do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, despite that, she flipped the sign with a single fluid movement and turned around, hopping back into the aisles with a spring in her step.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I shouldn’t do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I shouldn’t do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I probably shouldn’t do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...No, no - I <span class="u">definitely</span> shouldn’t do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vinyl played with a scratch, and she leaned back in the plush shiny black chair, waiting with giddy attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m doing this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the music </span>
  <em>
    <span>blared.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grinned. It was helplessly evil, mischievous and wide, showing off every one of her teeth and stretching her flesh nearly uncomfortably. She couldn’t stop its spread, though, because the music was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>blaring</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so damn screwed if anyone heard it</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it was just so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her fingers began to tap with the beat. Then, she tapped her foot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, she was banging her wrists hard enough to rattle the table and slapping her open palms hard enough to sting. Sharp twinges of pain and the thrum of pressure ran up her arms, but who the fuck cared when the music was practically possessing her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hung her head, shaking it back and forth in time with her impromptu beat. Her windbreaker whipped back and forth and the zipper bit at her bare arms, but goddammit she couldn’t give </span>
  <em>
    <span>one less shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>magnificent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she couldn’t be happier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Christ, Mom would </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> her when she got home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wondered, almost helplessly, if most fourteen-year-olds felt like this. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For some odd reason, she doubted it. She doubted that happiness this complete came to anyone but her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe that was because it felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So </span>
  <em>
    <span>untouched.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bea.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The music flowed through her and pulsed like her lifeblood, and it occurred to her that happiness this complete probably came but once in a lifetime.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t bring herself to be concerned that she might never be this happy again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because the music pulsed with such strength, and the grin on her lips felt like it would never fade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Beatrice Santello let herself live in the moment.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll give you guys a full chapter soon - but I've been procrastinating on it like crazy. I have no defence - hopefully this little bit of whatever can kickstart me into not being a lazy peice of garbage.</p><p>As a matter of fact, I might even end up releasing that full chapter today, if I manage to get into a groove. Here's hoping, eh?</p><p>AtEoE; HotA,</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Little Bow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mae has been a little busy between visits. She invites Bea to see what she's been busy with.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was deeply rare that Bea dwelled on anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is important that we focus on the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>dwelled.</span>
  </em>
  <span> When an event was in the process of happening, then Bea could - and often would - focus on it to a nearly unhealthy extent. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>dwelled, </span>
  </em>
  <span>from a certain perspective, but only on the things which affected her </span>
  <em>
    <span>right then.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Things like her Dad’s increasingly blasé attitude towards the shop, or the need to pay someone to move the rock salt. Things of that nature - some big, some small.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, when something had no current effect on her, Bea simply let it drift in the back of her mind, ready to be called up again at a moment’s notice. Ready to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>important.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, instead of concerning herself with something like, say… her favorite sauce, or the flooded mini-golf ice cream place that was apparently in this town somewhere, she was instead concerned with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>three no-shows</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the annual Harfest play.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Man, she was gonna tear Town Council a new one when this was over and done with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She jerked irritably, running a hand over her head and smoothing out her jacket compulsively. In her hand sat the script, torn to the bone without the three roles that hadn’t managed to show.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She might, repeat </span>
  <em>
    <span>might,</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to memorize the lines for </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the roles - but certainly not all of them, and hell, one of them was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>main antagonist!</span>
  </em>
  <span> They had nearly as much dialogue as the narrator did!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> screwed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was just contemplating if there might be a way to gut the script and tear it down into smaller parts, removing the roles she couldn’t use and correcting as much as she could to compensate, when the bell above the door jingled morosely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was Mae.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She almost expected the cat to be in costume, but apparently even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mae</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought that was a bit childish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, actually… er… she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dressed up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...In a tux.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Okay, I have some problems of my own at the moment, but please explain why the hell you are wearing a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tux.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae glanced over at her with a wild grin. She looked… thinner then normal, with those form-fitting clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Very</span>
  </em>
  <span> form-fitting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea tried to ignore the spark that lit in her gut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BeeBee!” Mae called happily, hopping over to the counter and jumping onto it. She bowed luxuriously, and said in a horrible british accent,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My dearest Beatrice, I am, </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course,</span>
  </em>
  <span> wearing a tux to exfoliate upon the re-opening of the Husker Bee Ballroom!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of expectant silence. Bea realized, belatedly, that that was supposed to be the end of Mae’s statement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>what.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, basically,” Mae answered, straightening and losing the accent, “I found some musicians practicing alone on rooftops when I came back in town, right? So I managed to get them to play with each other in this abandoned ballroom. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>then,</span>
  </em>
  <span> me and them decided that it would be really cool if we hung out some more - they both loved me, of course - so we decided to spruce up the ballroom in our spare time, and, lo and behold, just a bit more then a week later, the place is ready for public sight once more!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Actually quite cool.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re damn right, it is!” Mae exclaimed instantly. “And I am here to invite </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> BeeBee, to the grand re-opening!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She brandished a golden flyer. Bea grabbed it without even thinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>.   .   .   .   .</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Margaret Borowski, Queen of the Bees, Hereby Invites Her Friend Beatrice to Attend the Grand</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>HUSKER BEE BALLROOM</strong>
  </span>
  <strong> RE-OPENING!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why sit at home wallowing in boredom, when you can come listen to some jazz?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>.   .   .   .   .</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Why do I get the feeling you made these posters?” Bea couldn’t help but ask sardonically - though she also couldn’t help but be a little impressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think Mae had this much dedication. There were even doodles of honeycombs and bees on the sides - along with one of her, a cigarette dangling from her cartoon mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had to repress a tiny lip twitch when she saw it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I only made seven. All hand-crafted, of course. The mass-produced ones aren’t personal, we’re just gonna hang ‘em up around town and give them out randomly. We actually plan on charging - but you can come for free, obviously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Seven? Who’re you giving them to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And why did </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>I</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span> get one?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well - one for Gregg, one for Angus, another for Lori, Selmers, Mr. Chazakov - my astrology teacher - and Germ. Oh, and you, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She ticked them off on her fingers as she counted. When she came to seven, she took the two on her second hand and tapped them on Bea’s nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wrinkled said nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve done that. What gives?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea looked back down at the script in her lap as she said it, flipping though the pages and trying to get her head back in the game.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Um, it’s something my Granddad used to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked, glancing up. Mae’s enthusiasm had dimmed suddenly - the rapid-fire paragraphs and slightly high tone rapidly flattening into a dead statement of fact. When she looked up, Mae had looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But, before she had a chance to ask -</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What was wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>- what had suddenly made her shut up, Mae grinned again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It looked completely natural - easy and giddy. Just like always.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or even more concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway - what of you, BeeBee? What’re you doing - on this, the day of spooks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea noticed that the nickname wasn’t quite as annoying now that it had been repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>...She had never had a nickname before, had she?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Heh. Unless she counted Mom calling her a little bow. The violin kind - because she was thin and stringy, apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head firmly, shaking off the memories like water. She tossed the script on the counter with a limp hand, and it gave a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! You’re finally gonna trash this place and chuck everything out windows, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Margaret. This job is… kinda my whole life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Huh. What a great way to summarize my life. Suitably depressing </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>and</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span> suitably clandestine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on! You can start fresh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hop a train? Live in the woods? Commune with the beasts, Mr. Penderson?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Who is Mr. Penderson?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nevermind that part,” Mae answered instantly, flapping an unconcerned hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Which made that tux stretch in </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>just</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span> the right way to grip a </span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>tad</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span> more snugly…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Man, she was really thinking some </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span> things to get her mind off this damn play. She was even focusing on </span>
  <em>
    <span>fashion,</span>
  </em>
  <span> for God’s sake!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could join the army with a fake ID?” Mae offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t need a fake ID, Margaret. I’m 20, remember?” She chanted tiredly, scratching at her face. An old tick that had never quite gone away.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought that something sparked in Mae’s eye, but it was gone before she could be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s more fun if you have a fake ID!” Mae answered instantly, throwing her arms in the air. Her tux stretched a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea’s eyes darted down, and then up again. Mae didn’t seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“More fun for who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, don’t you already have a fake ID?” Mae needled.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, but why… wait, how do you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae grinned. “I didn’t, until now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea groaned. Mae’s grin widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you doing, if not finally trashing this joint?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea groaned louder, causing Mae to blink curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. That bad, eh?” Mae asked sardonically, leaning an elbow against the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea put her head in her hands, and gestured limply to the script. Mae stepped forward and picked it up, flipping through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The rustle of papers was the only sound for a moment, and Bea took that moment to let the knot of tension in her stomach loosen a touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can relax. Calm down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re with a friend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...An acquaintance, rather.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that thought made her feel a little worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>...Or better. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t quite sure. It was like... the emotion was a knot in her head, and the thought had pulled on some part of it - made some part of it tighten painfully, and another part loosen, relieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Heh. Maybe she was just going insane - emotions running rampant.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so bad about this?” Mae asked finally, glancing up from the script. “I mean, sure,” she confessed, “most of it is written in old-timey language that’s pronounced like you have a golfball in each cheek, and the story is cheesy as hell - but language like that is fun to say, especially if you’re improvising it, and I certainly wouldn’t turn down a gold ole’ fashioned cheesy short story. What about it is groan-inducing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Margaret,” she answered slowly, every word sounding like it pained her. “You see, that isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> a story. It’s a play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...And?” Mae asked, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I have to put it on in-” she glanced at her wristwatch and groaned. “Three minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put it on?” Mae sounded confused. “You - wait, you don’t mean… like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>here?</span>
  </em>
  <span> With actors and costumes and everything?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She just groaned again. Mae seemed to get the hint - though she didn’t seem to understand the inherent tragedy of the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>awesome!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She crowed. “You get to put on a cheesy play from the eighteen-hundreds full of spooks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> you get to wear a costume?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> no.” She answered instantly, glancing up from her palms and glaring at Mae. “I’m not putting on </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I only did it as a favor, anyway - I only have an obligation in a moral sense, not a practical one, and my morality will only go so far, Margaret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still!” Mae answered, seeming unconcerned by her lack of enthusiasm. “Spooks! And phrases like </span>
  <em>
    <span>saucy wench</span>
  </em>
  <span>! What’s there to be so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae seemed to search for the right term. Bea didn’t offer any help.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Morose</span>
  </em>
  <span> about?” Mae decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s the fact that I have three no-shows.” She answered sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Ah. That would do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Bea confirmed, running a hand down her face and looking up. “What the hell am I going to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be one of the roles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay - nothing personal, Margaret, but I doubt you could memorize the lines for even one of the smaller roles in-” She glanced at her watch again and grimaced. “Two minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw this a million times as a kid! I probably have at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> the witch memorized just from that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve changed the script, Margaret.” She answered triedly, looking at the cat in question flatly. “A lot. Mostly just to add more cheesy spooks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae looked disappointed for a second, before freezing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh my god.” She said after a moment, sounding like something monumental had just happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just unironically used the term </span>
  <em>
    <span>spooks.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked, before remembering that she had, indeed, done just that.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She groaned again, putting her face in her palms and feeling heat rise in her cheeks. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>heard</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mae grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“BeeBee, I think that you might be less punk rock then you like to act.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shuddup,” Bea mumbled into her hands. Mae seemed to take this as encouragement.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Spooks,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spooks.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’ll have to drink a million six-packs of gatorade and cover your whole face in eyeshadow to get that emo cred back.” Mae rubbed her chin thoughtfully, though the grin on her face ruined the impression. “Maybe get a few piercings while you’re at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Margaret.” She said more clearly, looking up from her hands and glaring.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you can’t intimidate me now, Bea - you’ve used </span>
  <em>
    <span>spooks,</span>
  </em>
  <span> after all. Who can be scary after that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cthulhu?” Bea offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t try to change the subject!” Mae crowed, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Though, to be fair,” she went on thoughtfully, “that’s a pretty good subject to change to - but nothing can be better then the subject of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> using </span>
  <em>
    <span>spooks.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we move past this now?” Bea requested flatly, rolling her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Fine.” Mae allowed. “But this is not the end of this conversation!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhmm.” Bea hummed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause. Bea glanced at her wristwatch.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Urgh - I’ll have to improvise, we’re on in, like, thirty seconds.” The knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Well, actually…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Bea glanced at Mae, who was now staring into nothing thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> just…” Mae glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “Ditch it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Margaret, I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because-” She answered instantly, a million reasons on her tongue, before stopping suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Why can’t I, again?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I promised to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promised who? The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Town Council?</span>
  </em>
  <span> What does it matter if you piss </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Council has state funding, Margaret. I can’t just ignore them.” She answered, though the idea was a touch too appealing already.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you can!” Mae answered indignantly. “As a matter of fact, it’s as simple as </span>
  <em>
    <span>not doing something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And not doing something is 100% easier then doing something!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a lot more boring,” Bea murmured, though, to her dismay, she was considering the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced at her wristwatch. She had about ten seconds to decide.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you do something else! Come on, you can drop by the ball room and help us set up - we could use someone who actually knows what they’re doing, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae offered a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s ditch this joint, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea’s eyes darted compulsively around the shop, before landing on Mae’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Urgh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed the hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Some distant part of her expected a spark to run up her hand - like it had when Mae had grabbed her shoulder. But it seemed that she could only expect the unexpected when it came to Mae - because, instead, a kind of warmth ran up her arm, tingly and comfortable. Like she was back on the couch in her old house.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was christmas eve - late out. Late enough that the moon was shining down on them and dripping heavy droplets of twilight over their heads. There was a blanket wrapped around her - red and brown, checkered - or maybe plaid. There was a cookie in her hand. Fresh-baked, Mom had claimed - straight from the oven. The chocolate chips were melted, and there was a tiny dollop of whip cream on top.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Just how she liked it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom rubbed her head affectionately. ‘Nothing but the best for my little bow,’ she said proudly, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The warmth of coming home, after a long, </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> day, and finding freshly baked cookies and a warmly coloured blanket waiting for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The warmth in a cold, cold world. The home waiting for you at the end of a bad day.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae tugged her out into the cold. She just remembered to grab her windbreaker off the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae was smiling at her, she noticed. Smiling a tiny, unbearably </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile. And the pads of her paws were warm enough to make up for the cold, biting wind on Bea’s face, and the light in her eyes was bright enough to make up for the indiscriminate shadow draped over the town, broken only by the lonely, harsh circles of cold white streetlamp light.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heh. Cold white streetlamp light.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That rhymes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea let the tiniest smile touch the corners of her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The knot in her stomach had turned into a tiny pile of string, limp and lifeless. Mae pulled her along, and she followed willingly, determinedly keeping up with Mae’s short, excitable tread.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She suddenly shook her head firmly, wiping away the odd half-haze that had come over her. She felt, oddly, as if a weight had fallen on her shoulders when she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced around. They were in the middle of the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even know where you’re going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Mae answered indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I am the queen of direction, thank you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhmm. And what if I asked Gregg - would he corroborate your claims?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greggory is a liar and a scoundrel.” Mae answered instantly, a grin on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a no, then?” Bea raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Liar. And scoundrel.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Bea hummed nondescriptly, glancing up at the building they had just stopped in front of.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae was still holding her hand. That oddly warm tingly feeling popped and fizzled just below her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae didn’t even seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So... umm… we may have to do some ledge climbing.” Mae said suddenly, scratching the back of her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea raised an incredulous eyebrow at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I’m sorry, what? I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> I didn’t hear you correctly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, just… come on in, first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae opened the door with a single sweeping motion, and tugged Bea into the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was… decrepit, to say the least. The place was clearly being put back in shape, but… it was a work in progress. Some of the windows were shiny and recently replaced while others were cracked, full on broken, or - at the very best - caked with dust and grime. There were bare wires running across the ceiling to the fluorescents, and the glitter of broken glass seemed to shine in random places across the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Good thing she was wearing shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae tugged her further in, flipping on a switch absentmindedly. The fluorescent bulb fizzled (strongly enough the Bea could actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> it) but came on after a long moment, lighting the place in a harsh white that showed all the more clearly just how out of shape it was. Bea could almost hear the scuttling of creatures in the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>...No, scratch that, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> hear the scuttling of creatures in the walls. Probably something big, too - a possum, maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I do hope this isn’t the ballroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“This? No, of course not.” Mae assured her absentmindedly, tugging her towards a corner. “Now, where… ah-ha! Durkillesburg!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed on a section of wall, opening up a set of hidden stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Okay, all other questions aside for the moment, what the hell is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Durkillesburg?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh. Did I say that out loud?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae chuckled nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm - up here should be the ballroom, I think.” Mae said quickly, tugging her up the stairs. Bea wondered - but refrained from mentioning - that Mae </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> where the ballroom was, so why would she </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> it </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be up here?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea decided to let Mae get away with the subject change.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would they make the stairs secret?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae shrugged. The movement jostled their still-joined arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the ballroom was supposed to be for a secret society or something.” Mae said, sounding completely unconcerned. “It doesn’t matter, really, because this staircase will be revealed to the world for the re-opening - so it won’t be secret anymore, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess not.” Bea conceded.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They reached the top of the stairs, and Mae swung the door open once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>To a room which might as well have been identical to the entrance room.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Decrepit, dusty, grimy, etc. etc.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> the ballroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope!” Mae chirped, tugging her over to a door with a broken ‘exit’ sign. “Okay, awesome - this shouldn’t take much climbing, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked. “Why wouldn’t I have been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae sounded so genuine that Bea wondered if she was even joking.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She swung open the door with another grand gesture. Apparently it led to the fire escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae trotted out onto the metal ledge, tugging Bea along. They climbed a set of cold metal stairs - Bea ran her hand along the barrister. It was cold as ice - onto another balcony.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, coo. Um, so, now comes the climbing bit - you just have to hop up to that ledge, and then up onto the ceiling, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea looked at where Mae was pointing - at a ledge which seemed far more flimsy when she was told she had to stand on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, two things - first, does everyone who wants to attend the re-opening have to do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, of course not!” Mae shook her hands wildly. “No, they’re gonna get the elevator up and running again before the re-opening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And second - do you expect me to jump on the ceiling from that ledge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae glanced over, looking confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean -”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, suddenly, her expression cleared.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” She laughed. “Oh, no, I don’t expect you to climb up</span>
  <em>
    <span> on your own.</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, you’re gonna boost me up, and then I’ll help you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… tell me you’re joking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae looked confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bea said flatly - as if she had expected it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she had.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mae asked, brow furrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea sighed slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly the problem, Margaret. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae looked dreadfully confused. Bea rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nevermind. So, you go first, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked, but grinned easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep!” She chirped, and stepped up to the balcony railing. Her hand slipped out of Bea’s-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She suddenly felt so much colder.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>-And she hopped onto the railing, before jumping to the ledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It made a clattering noise loud enough that that knot in Bea’s stomach retied twice as tightly, but it didn’t fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you come over now!” Mae shouted (in Bea’s opinion, a bit over-dramatically).</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Annnnnd hell no.” She said instantly, stepping back and holding her hands in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, come on - you can’t back out now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Margaret, that thing is going to collapse. Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> that noise it made? It’s a solid ten pounds from shattering!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mae answered instantly. “You really think I would tell you to do something unsafe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want it straight?” Bea responded flatly, though her eyes were latched on the ledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha and ha. Seriously. It’s perfectly safe - watch!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae jumped on the ledge and slammed down as hard as she could. It rattled something fierce.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The knot in Bea’s stomach had turned into a lurching pool of sludge.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it didn’t collapse.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just got some loose parts - it looks more dangerous then it is. Really.” Mae assured her. “Come on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Margaret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is an </span>
  <em>
    <span>experience</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bea!” Mae answered. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Have it!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She grimaced, looking down at the ledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...I can’t believe I’m actually going to do it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She hopped before she lost her nerve.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing rattled so strongly that Mae had to grip the edge of the window to secure herself - like it was bellowing its discomfort with having such weight on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it stood firm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea let out a relieved sigh, feeling like a weight left her shoulders as she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? Easy every time.” Mae assured her, grinning smugly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, you were right and I was wrong - can we move on, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course,</span>
  </em>
  <span> BeeBee!” Mae answered with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For some odd reason, Bea felt like this wasn’t the last she would hear of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, come on - boost me!” Mae practically demanded, bouncing on her heels giddily. Bea eyed the ledge distrustfully when it made an odd squeaking sound, but held out her clasped hands as a ledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae stood on it with one painful boot, and Bea quickly lifted her as strongly as she could. The ledge gave a pained groan - and Bea huffed heavily. Mae was harder to lift than anticipated.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae </span>
  <em>
    <span>barely</span>
  </em>
  <span> managed to grab the roof.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae hauled herself up, putting a foot on the roof and bringing her weight onto it. Soon enough, she was standing on the edge of it, breathing a little heavily but grinning wildly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve - </span>
  <em>
    <span>huff</span>
  </em>
  <span> - literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to do that.” Mae said, sounding deeply proud.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, you damn cat, get me off this thing.” Bea demanded, holding up a hand. Mae grabbed it easily-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A fizzing sensation, like she was a tall glass of sparkling water.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>-And hauled her up with a surprising amount of strength. Still, Bea grabbed the roof edge as quickly as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She hauled herself up with a well-practiced motion, and dusted off her jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Bea turned to her with a raised eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did the clichéd jacket dust off.” Mae answered, hiding a grin behind her hand. Bea felt a tiny bit of heat well in her cheeks, and glanced away.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” She demanded, walking to more safe ground. Mae followed her, rushing ahead and holding out her hands like a tv-show host to present-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A door.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay - </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the Husker Bee Ballroom.” Mae said dramatically, swinging the door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>...Okay, it did look </span>
  <em>
    <span>kinda</span>
  </em>
  <span> cool. Better then the rest of the place, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The wallpaper was done in appropriate yellow and black - bright and piercing. The tables scattered throughout the room were tasteful, hand-carved and dark, fitting perfectly within the colour palette.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And the focal point, at least for now, was the massive, sparkling chandelier hanging from the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The place certainly fit the name, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Too bad it was clearly a work-in-progress.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The wallpaper was peeling in places, the columns had all lost their paint, and only two were starting to be repainted - neither of them complete. The stage’s curtains were torn up and of a much darker colour then fit with the decor, and the nooks and crannies were still caked with dust and grime.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But, given some time and effort… it could be a real nice place to spend an evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...</span>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>Margaret</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span> did this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea glanced over at Mae despite herself. The cat in question was looking at the ball room with a kind of distant pride - like how you would look at something you had accomplished long ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Heh. Look at Margaret - already leaving an impact.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckled slightly, and Mae glanced at her. The pride vanished, replaced with giddiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? Whaddya think?” She was bouncing on her heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea looked around thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad, Margaret.” She allowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mae seemed to glow with pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bea couldn’t help but smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> <span class="u"><em><strong>And t</strong></em><strong>hus, </strong></span></p><p>             <span class="u"><strong>nobody</strong><em><strong> was there </strong></em></span></p><p> </p><p><em><strong>to </strong></em>   <em><strong>wit</strong></em></p><p>
  
  <em>
    <strong>ne</strong>
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>ss a young</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span class="u">
    <em><strong>teen </strong>vanish </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span class="u">
    <em>into <strong>the night.</strong></em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm in love with this chapter.</p><p>In. Love.</p><p>I feel like there's so much I wanted to do in this scene that I just didn't get to - I might even end up re-writing it sometime soon, or at least adding to it.</p><p>Even if I don't do that, I may very well write some extra stuff in this little scene and post it as a drabble, or maybe a one-shot.</p><p>And the plot's back - and it ain't happy that it was ignored for so long.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Dialogue: Fishing For Compliments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bea and Mae are working on the ballroom. Mae feels like she needs a compliment.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Hey, Bea?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Margaret.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>What’s your favorite thing about me?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aren’t we supposed to be doing work on this big thing that you’re so invested in?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Well, yeah, but we can work and talk.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And you can’t?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Well, technically, I CAN…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So, come out with it, gurl! Your favorite thing about lil’ ol me.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your habit of fishing for compliments.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Ha and ha. This is the first time I’ve done this.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So far.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Exactly! This is the first time I’ve done this so far, and thus, it is not yet a habit!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yet, Margaret. The key word is yet. And, if I indulge you this time, this may very well become a habit of regular indulgence.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Quit it, with your big words! I just want one little compliment, BeeBee, is that so much to ask?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You want one little compliment NOW. If I give it to you, your bloated ego will require sustenance more and more frequently and I may very well be the only person you go to to supply it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>As sound a theory as that is, I’m sure you will pop my ego with a well-placed jab if that ever happens.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Well, yes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And so, there’s nothing to worry about! Come on, gimme a compliment, BeeBee.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...Okay, how about this?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m all ears.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>You give me a compliment, and I’ll give one back. That way, it’ll be mutual ego bloating.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Did you hear that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hear what?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My deeply exasperated sigh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...Is that a no?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Christ. Okay, fine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yay! Cue the fanfare! DOO Dt Dt DOO!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Please never do that again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I’ll go first, then?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please. I need plenty of time to think.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Har har. Um… your work ethic.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Is that a joke?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>No, really! You, like, show up to your stupid dead-end job every day and just STAND THERE, not doing anything, for an entire shift! ...I could never do that.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, at least you aren’t comparing yourself to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I know, right?! Now - pay up, BeeBee!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gimme a second here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...Okay, it is no longer funny. Now I’m just hurt, Bea.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As if. Nothing offends you, you thick-skinned pain in the ass.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Why, Bea, I’ll have you know that every one of your little jabs has been a weight on my fragile shoulders! Soon enough, I’ll have to crawl around on the floor because I can no longer stand - what with this massive pile of insults weighing me down!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve decided. It’s your dramaticism.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Well, I am rather good at being dramatic - but flattery will get you nowhere! I need that compliment, A-S-A-P!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hmph. Fine. Uh… your optimism.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Huh?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Haven’t we discussed your use of ‘huh’ before?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Elaborate, please, BeeBee.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I never agreed to this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I’ve altered the deal. Pray I don’t alter it further.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Your tone of voice suggests that that is a joke I don’t get.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>You… you’ve never seen Star Wars?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nope.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>You… I… we will discuss this LATER, BeeBee. Elaborate.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You… I dunno. You always find the silver lining. Your never depressed, really, not that I’ve seen. You find something good in every situation. I guess… I guess I wish I could do that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>That…</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Das so schweet, Beatwice!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Urgh, Christ.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Aww, is BeeBee embawwassed?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m annoyed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I knew you cawed, deep down, Beatwice.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I knew I never should’ve done this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Youw bawbs hide an inner affection, Beatwice - you’we like a cactus!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to hit you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>You can’t hide youw love now- </b><em><span>Shut- </span></em><b>argh! No- </b><em><span>UP!</span></em><b> not the wrench! ARGH!!!</b> <b>BeeBee, that hurt!</b></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I told you I’d hit you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And so, you should’ve stopped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Well, then - BeeBee, if you don’t stop breathing, I will kiss your cheek!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...What?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>This is your final warning, Bea!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I… fine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Wait, you can’t really - Bea, stop it, that isn’t going to work.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>...Bea, really. You - Christ, you’re turning purple.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Bea, seriously! You can’t just - okay, fine, I won’t kiss you, just breathe already!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>HUFF! Puff. Huuufff - puff.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jeez, that was… that was quite impressive, actually.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, when you have the right incentive…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Oh, shut up, you damn crocodile.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Welp - here's a little drabble for ya. I wanted to get that in last chapter, but I didn't quite get there, in the end. So, instead of a normal, descriptive chapter, here's something I made in a little over 1 and 1/2 hours with a little creativity and a lot of caffeine.</p><p>Maybe I'll come back and flesh this out at some point, but uh... don't count on it.</p><p>AtEoE; HotA,</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Interlude: Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mae talks to Lori about what;s been going on with Bea.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Heya Killer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae scowled slightly, hopping onto the roof and flopping into a seated position unceremoniously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you not to call me that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Lori said instantly, leaning back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No problem.” Mae leaned back too, hanging upside down and staring out at the infinite skyline.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lori joined her fairly quickly. She let her arms hang off, swaying with the wind, while Mae crossed her arms over her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s goin’ on with you, dude?” Mae said, almost entirely out of habit. The expected answer came like clockwork, leaving her with the opening she had wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing much. You?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dude, I’ve been having so much fun.” Mae said, a giddy smile pulling at her lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve made a new friend.” Mae answered, spreading her arms happily. She heard a smile in Lori’s voice as she answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dope.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know! She’s a total cutie, too - Bea’s her name, and she’s super badass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Badass?” Lori asked, raising an eyebrow and turning to her. The blood was beginning to rush to her head and she could feel a bit of pressure in her skull, but she kept hanging anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. She’s like - proto goth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” Lori answered, turning back to the skyline. “Total cutie, eh?” She went on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” Mae confirmed. “Do you swing that way?” Mae couldn’t help but suddenly wonder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Uh, no - straight as an arrow, I’m afraid.” Lori answered, grinning slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’ll just have to take my word for it, then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Total</span>
  </em>
  <span> cutie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...When you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>cutie…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lori trailed off. Mae furrowed her brow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean like - cute in a blushy way, or cute in a, like, domineering way?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Domineering?” Mae turned to her. “Whaddya mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like, uh - is she like, anime girl cute, or like, porno cute? Like, is she cute, or sexy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sexy.” Mae answered instantly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> sexy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Coo.” Lori answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, uh…” Lori went on, staring out over the edge. “You crushing on her, or…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae felt a little heat in her cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, uh - y’know, I just, uh - appreciate the vibe she’s got going, y’know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re whipped, then.” Lori answered after a moment, raising an eyebrow at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
  <span> whipped, man.” Mae answered instantly, grinning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Never really had that.” Lori said, staring out over the horizon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whaddya mean?” Mae turned to her. The blood pooling in her skull was beginning to pulse with each heartbeat, and it was getting uncomfortable, but Mae knew from experience that the feeling would pass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like, never had a crush on anyone. I don’t really do - uh - </span>
  <em>
    <span>romance,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I guess is the word.” Lori snorted. “Guess that’s why I’m a horror type-a gal, eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, really? Like, no crushes </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Lori answered, continuing to stare out into the horizon. Mae wondered just what went on in her weird head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Mae figured she knew. She had always had quite a bit in common with Lori.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Mae said. “Weird. I thought everyone had someone they wanted to be with by fourteen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dude - I’ll be fifteen in like, four or five months.” Lori sounded mockingly offended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae snorted. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but my point stands.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lori rapidly dropped the fake offence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so,” the rodent said, “I’ve always, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be like that. To like, have that deep a connection with someone, y’know? To be able to look at someone and be like-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lori pointed out into the distance, as if at a phantom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You are the person that I want to spend the majority of my time with. You make me feel things that I don’t usually, and they’re so good that they feel bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lori dropped the arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But like… I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Like, I don’t look at anyone and get that weird stomach-lurchy thing that the badly written romance books talk about, or have my guts tighten from having someone near me, or feel sparks fly when I talk to people. I just… I get like, an abstract feeling. Like, yep.” Lori said, voice flattening into a dead statement of fact. “That person is attractive. I would have sex with them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“But like,” she went on, hand gesturing frustratedly, “I don’t feel that kind of connection with anyone. A feeling like… like having sex with </span><em><span>them,</span></em> <em><span>specifically,</span></em><span> would make me very, very happy. I never feel like - </span><em><span>yes, I would never have sex with anyone but them again if they asked me</span></em><span> - I just feel like - </span><em><span>yeah, I would have sex with just them so they don’t get pissed off and I still get sexy times.”</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The only reason I would spend my life with someone,” Lori spewed, looking more open then Mae had ever seen her, “is because I like them. Like, how they </span>
  <em>
    <span>act.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But I would never feel like being in bed with them, all sweaty and gross and feeling hot and uncomfortable - would encompass such a thing as </span>
  <em>
    <span>love.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It would never be </span>
  <em>
    <span>making love,</span>
  </em>
  <span> because that isn’t an expression of love, to me - that’s just, like - </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, you are attractive to me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked, sifting through all that for a second, before hesitantly responding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… yeah, I get what you mean. But like… to me, having sex with someone you really care about, is like… the deepest connection possible, you know? Like, they’re making you feel good, and you’re making them feel good, and you’re both sharing something which normal people never get to see. It’s like… the ultimate form of showing you trust someone, and the biggest, most personal gift you can give them, all at the same time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lori stared out into the horizon silently, for a long, long moment. Then, she smiled hesitantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mae?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Lori?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Bea is lucky to have you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae grinned happily, proud and abashed. Lori smiled shyly back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Visiting Lori always made Mae feel a little bit better.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Important note here, right at the start - I actually have another NitW fanfic out right now. That one is first person and pretty much entirely made up of chapters like these interludes - short, more common, and about smaller characters. Currently I'm having a lot of fun writing from Lori's perspective in that, and it bled over a little. It's called Stray Thoughts, check it out if you give a shit.</p><p>So, for a little history nobody asked for - I've been working a ton on the next chapter, and it's a scene that's been in fragments in my head for a while. Problem is, every time I try to tie them together it always comes out stilted and awkward and both Mae and Bea feel too out of character for me to feel okay even posting it as a draft, so I've scraped page after page of work for pretty much no leeway.</p><p>So, I started getting worried I wouldn't get a chapter out. And then I remembered it was about time I did an interlude anyway and that I could do basically whatever I wanted for it, so I wrote this all in one shot without erasing anything or re-reading it.</p><p>Man, was it ever cathartic.</p><p>Hope you liked it, and my slightly weird kinda asexual Lori. Anybody relate to my rodent lass?</p><p>AtEoE; HotA,</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. What Did I Do?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mae and Bea attend a party.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Suicidal thoughts</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Thought: Bea’s windbreaker is sexy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae chewed thoughtfully on the non-business end of her pen, eyes tracing the lines of the ceiling. After a moment, she scratched out that line, and wrote,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thought: I might be a little obsessed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a tiny moment of deliberation, she added,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>PS: That windbreaker is sexy, though.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Underneath it, she drew a cartoonish version of the windbreaker in question, and a Mae with crossed eyes and a tongue lolling out of her mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slapped the journal closed with a single motion, putting the cap on her pen with a decisive movement and standing. She slipped on a jacket, put the journal in its pocket, and strode out the door with a massive grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now, what to do today…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The obvious answer was to go hang out with BeeBee for a bit. Mae couldn’t help but snicker a little at the nickname, a wide, goofy smile on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was rather fitting, while still being appropriately childish and familiar. Mae was rather proud of herself for that one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, the obvious answer was to drop by the Ol' Pickaxe and ruffle the feathers of the girl in question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the obvious was usually the most logical, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She swung open the Ol’ Pickaxe’s glass front door with a grin still on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea glanced up from where she had been leaning against the wall, and sighed slightly when she saw Mae step into the store.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heh. Like clockwork.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Margaret seems to have become a part of my schedule.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolled the fake cigarette along her teeth with her tongue, and licked experimentally at her lips as Mae stepped up to the counter. The harsh fluorescents poured down on them, and Bea glanced at her watch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nearly six.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Nope. Nope nope nope.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am not inviting Margaret.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am NOT inviting Margaret.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>NOT</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> inviting Margaret.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heya.” She sighed, taking the faux cigarette out her mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked, looking oddly surprised about something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey BeeBee.” She said anyway, grin returning rapidly as she hopped onto the counter. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not much.” Bea reached up, scratching at her cheek lazily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh. That was an old tick that had been gone for a while.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gotta get outta here in about ten minutes.” She went on, crushing the fake cigarette and tossing it out. She ground her fingers together so that the ash fell off them, taking great satisfaction in the little prickles of pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae looked at her in an strangely blank way, though her eyes smoldered oddly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BeeBee? Uh… you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BeeBee.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Christ, I hate that nickname,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought distantly, as she turned away from Mae and flicked the last of the ash from her fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, suddenly, the nickname had stopped being a point of such contention. She realized that she had probably never had anyone be so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiar</span>
  </em>
  <span> towards her before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a tiny little flickering flame in her gut, sending an odd feeling of heavy warmth deep into her bones. It was a barely noticeable phenomenon - a little thing, really, unimportant in the grand scheme of things - tiny, and hidden, and oddly guilty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BeeBee.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Christ, I’m going to invite Margaret, aren’t I?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, Margaret.” She said almost to herself, head falling back against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How dreary it is, being me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heh. Once upon a midnight dreary… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chuckled lowly, raspy and distant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the short beat of silence was broken by Mae’s voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mae.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked, lifting her head from the comforting cold of the stone wall and staring across at Mae.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, nothing.” Mae said quickly, glancing away with a look that Bea couldn’t quite define.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, what’s up?” Bea pursued, sitting up from the wall and raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really, it’s nothing.” Mae insisted, eyes firmly away from Bea’s. “Something stupid. Won’t bring it up again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Hey, Margaret?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Mae turned to her with an expectant look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m not okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked once to let her surprise show, before suddenly leaning forward and grabbing Bea’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t even completely sure why she had told </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mae,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people. The words had felt both like they had been pried from her throat, and like she was confessing something of her own free will to…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To a friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae sat on the counter with one of Bea’s hands clasped between her own, sitting in her lap. Her eyes were wide and warm, and her voice was soft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was the odd popping, fizzing sensation just below her skin that made her want to suddenly spill everything to Mae. To fall into her arms and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk,</span>
  </em>
  <span> until her voice was scratchy and the sun was low. Or maybe it was because of how Mae </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked,</span>
  </em>
  <span> turned to her with that expression, a cross between concern and patience.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She just wanted to let everything down. To drop away her will, the only thing keeping the pieces of her together, and fall apart at the seams while she talked about everything she had ever worried about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Mae would </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately</span>
  </em>
  <span> tempting to do just that, for the shortest moment. When Mae turned those spotlight eyes on her, and one of the silken-smooth pads of her paws stroked along Bea’s knuckles, and it felt, for just a moment, like she really </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> fall apart in Mae’s arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the same way that, sometimes, she could look at the knife block on the counter, and really </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> the blood pouring from her wrists, and feel the sweet arms of death embracing her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, as always, the feeling left. And there was just an uncomfortable fizzing sensation under her skin and a dead silent store around her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...God, she was having a bad day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why am I alive, again?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Heh. She wondered what Mae would say if she voiced </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Oh. Right. Mae.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… just a long day, y’know?” Bea sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong,</span>
  </em>
  <span> certainly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stared at her with that unbearable expression of concern, and smiled softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I know the feeling, girl.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s thumb stroked along her knuckles again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you know the feeling? You, who doesn’t have a job, or a life that hinges on it? You, with two parents, and a life which gives meaning to every day?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you know the feeling of being stuck somewhere, in a loop that feels like you could stay in it the rest of your life and get nothing from it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To just be…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Doomed?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I’m gonna be better soon enough,” Bea said, voice sharp and sure - in contrast to the weariness that had stagnated and exuded from her tone just a moment before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s eyes lit up, just a little bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Mae pressed, curious and a little excited.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, christ, if you’re really gonna do this, now’s your shot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, Margaret - wanna go to a party with me?” She said quickly, before she lost her nerve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A… a party?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. My friend Jackie’s throwin’ one - they’re always great parties, too, though it’ll be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get to, a nearly two hour drive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was staring at her with the oddest look on her face - frozen as if in some kind of strange stasis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we’d have to ride a subway - I swear, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> staying at a party till’ two and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>driving</span>
  </em>
  <span> all the way home, so… yeah, subway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae suddenly stopped being frozen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That… that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dope!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She crowed. Her head fell back as she laughed. “And you… you’re inviting </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae sounded incredulous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, sure.” Bea said, trying her best to sound nonchalant even as a grin began to stretch her lips. “Who else would I invite?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae giggled giddily. Bea felt that smile begin to shine through the cracks in her mask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh. What an odd sensation - blooming in her chest, spreading like dye in milk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted to try and grasp at what it was, but she was too focused on Mae, hopping up off the counter and spewing something just stupid enough to get her to snort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her day was rapidly looking up.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh God, finally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sky was a perfect shade of midnight blue, the moon hanging like a sun and dripping twilight upon them. The fog gathered at their heels like trails of dust, thick and swirling like a thundercloud. The dew clung at her heels like every step she took smoked, and the light of her cigarette was piercingly orange in the blue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The venue loomed over them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae agreed with her via relieved noise, hopping forward with a little less energy than normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...You sure we’re doing this? We </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> have terrible luck.” Mae wondered aloud, staring down the stair towards the multicolour lights.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on. Nothing to be scared of.” Bea answered, gesturing down at the party.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Not too late to throw ourselves into traffic instead?” Mae offered with shrugged shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jackie!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were footsteps, and a figure appeared from the fog. Mae made a slightly disappointed noise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bea! You made it!” Jackie cried happily, hopping up the stairs two at a time and grinning at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! And you brought someone else.” Jackie said, eyebrows raised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heya. I’m Jackie.” She introduced, holding her hand out to Mae.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, despite all her warnings and pleas not to fuck this up for her, Bea was almost afraid Mae would pull some shit that instantly put Jackie off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She never imagined that something worse might happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In an instant, Mae’s eyes seemed to become pits. Her pupils shrunk slightly, and the smile on her face became statuesque. Her twitchy whiskers stilled with an odd kind of frozen movement, and the bounciness of her rocking heels that always paraded her even while she stood still vanished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t even quite those things, though. Those were just the symptoms of the disease that Bea hadn’t known existed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was like… a light in Mae’s soul had gone out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, suddenly…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mae Borowski.” Mae answered, shaking Jackie’s hand easily and smiling that smile. The one which was so complacently charming, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>clandestine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that anyone would instantly find it refreshingly average.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Statuesque.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, just as Bea could have guessed, Jackie smiled back, instantly judging what Mae was like at a glance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Normal. Utterly normal. Someone easy to ignore, but not boring to talk to. Someone who’ll let you talk, but never really listen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like everyone else.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Was this the price Bea had to pay, to have Mae not embarrass her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good to meet you, Mae!” Jackie responded, dropping her hand. “So, you and Bea are friends?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stiffened sharply, but Mae’s expression didn’t twitch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t go that far, Jackie.” Mae said, smile becoming conspiratorial. “I just like her a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea felt the bottom drop out her stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a nice thing to say…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice, it felt so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>fake.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jackie chuckled politely. It was fake, and they all knew it, but nobody said anything. Because the interaction was </span>
  <em>
    <span>clandestine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was how clandestine interactions went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Won’t you two come in?” Jackie offered, gesturing to the party.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Just let me finish this cigarette first - I couldn’t smoke the whole ride here.” Bea sighed, taking another deep drag of her second cigarette in six minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mae?” Jackie offered, raising an eyebrow at the cat in question. Mae smiled at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I better stay out here too, actually.” She winked. “Make sure no big bad criminals take advantage of our poor helpless Bea, eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jackie chuckled politely again, and left them to their devices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second she was gone, the light came back on. Mae’s pupils widened, just a little, her smile became odd and </span>
  <em>
    <span>abnormal</span>
  </em>
  <span> again, her whiskers twitched in agitation and she rocked a little bit on her heels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So? How’d I do, BeeBee?” Mae asked excitedly, turning to her with a wide, </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> grin. “I admit, I’m a little rusty, but-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell was that.” Bea interjected flatly. Mae blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you wanted me to act normal, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I - yes.” Bea said, cutting herself off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well - how’d I do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…” She started, and stopped. “You…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wonderful. You did wonderful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s exactly the fucking problem.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Bea confessed, stepping forward towards the light and flicking away the smoldering remains of her cigarette. Mae grinned happily at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? It’s been a while since I last did that - felt a little bit wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heh. A </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>little bit,</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> huh?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did fine, Margaret.” She sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked at her, looking like she was about to interject. Bea cut her off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” she said, mocking cheer masking the bitterness in her voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s party.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae hesitated, but followed behind her. Halfway through, Bea heard the bounce in her step vanish, becoming an easy, solid tread - as opposed to that bouncy half-gallop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea felt vaguely sick.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that’s why you gotta take it seriously!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jackie was ranting about something or other in front of a group of boys. Both of them looked rich - thick, furry coats and scarves, cups of twelve dollar coffee and the most expensive brand of jeans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just gotta put your foot down, and be like - ‘no fascists at this party!’ You know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure that’s wise?” One of them asked. Their voice was smooth and snooty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Course it is! You can’t talk that shit out!” Jackie insisted as Bea and Mae stepped up next to them. The mask hugged Mae’s face like an old friend as she walked forward with even steps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spark in her chest was expertly shuttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gotta punch that shit out! Carry a knife, learn to throw a punch - and deal!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mace woks too.” Bea chipped in, standing slightly outside the group.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mace against fascists!!!” Jackie chanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea laughed. Mae could tell it was fake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah - this is Bea, and this is Mae. Mae and Bea, Chris and Patt.” Jackie said quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hiya.” Bea said equally quickly, waving slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hiya? Since when does Bea say hiya?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae tipped a two-finger wave and smiled her best fake smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where you two from, anyway?” Bea asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bright Harbor.” One of them (Chris?) answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep. A couple-a Bright Harbor rats, born and raised.” The other (Patt, Mae was pretty sure) went on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Must’ve been a long drive to get here, eh?” Mae asked casually, leaning against the wall and smiling again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt awful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As per usual, when she had to do this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, the things I do for you, Beatrice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Awful, too - the smog in this damn place makes me sick.” Chris said with a sneer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s it like down there?” Bea asked. There was an odd note in her voice - weak, and petulant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s whatever.” Patt answered. “The colleges there are sub-par at best, but the food is okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y'all wanna dance?” Jackie offered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” Mae answered, straightening and following Jackie out to the dance floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She heard Bea pause before following.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she saw the beer, Mae decided that getting drunk was a stupid idea at the moment.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae had never imagined that dancing would be so much fun.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea was staring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t intended it. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t. But goddamn, Mae could </span>
  <em>
    <span>dance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tension in Bea’s shoulders, that had set them perfectly straight, had vanished in an instant, and her eyes were slightly wider then they should be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wondered briefly if anyone could even see her eyeshadow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That damn cat would be the death of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae danced like a being possessed. She… she was an outlet for art, nearly. And Bea wasn’t one to use such flowery language, but she was…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Transfixed, was the only word for it. Completely transfixed. Because Mae was an artist on the dance floor - every movement another brush on the canvas, every wave another note in the symphony of her emotion. Every gesture added another layer, every step another scene.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it was…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was tragic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a dance of tragedy. Sorrow in every precise steps, the perfect expression of the utmost depths of bitterness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vitriol.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A dance of war.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of loss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea was reminded, slowly, dauntingly, of Gnoisse 1. A perfect expression of hateful, vitriolic tragedy - lifelong bitterness in every note.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea almost expected for Mae to start weeping. Tears slowly pouring down her cheeks from closed eyes, as her dance sped up and the war wore down to a last desperate stand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But instead… instead, she looked like she was having </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, that was so much worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, she stopped suddenly, eyes opening sharply and a grin spreading across her face. And it was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>real,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that damn mask gone and that light shining sharply through her eyes, that Bea felt a tiny spark fly in her ribcage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BeeBee!” Mae shouted over the music, running towards her and grabbing her hand. “Dance with me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wha- Whoa!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stumbled as Mae pulled her forcefully onto the dance floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was grinning. Then, she closed her eyes, and danced. Luckily, it was far more simple then last time - a dance that was clearly meant as part of a larger whole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae opened her eyes, and winked at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Bea! Wave our scaly arms, gurl!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea backed up a step, hands spread defensively before her - but, before she could say something along the lines of ‘hell no’, Mae sighed with a smile on her face, and grabbed both of her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laced her fingers through Bea’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The familiar fizzling sensation bubbled just below her skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, Mae was dancing with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t quite a waltz, since the song playing was both techno and in 4/4 - but it was like… a very fast waltz mixed with tango, with an extra step added.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And while normally that would be an abomination, Mae managed to make it work, in some odd, insane way. It was fun, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae spun her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Oh Christ, she was letting </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mae</span>
  </em>
  <span> lead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And enjoying it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae pulled her close again, kicking out her legs one after the other with smashes of chords in the music. Like she knew what was coming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was grinning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was smiling. Just a tick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae leant forward suddenly, resting her forehead against Bea’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both stopped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The music was blaring, but there was an odd ringing in Bea’s ears drowning it out. A noise like static, harsh and glittering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s face was close enough that she could make out individual hairs and whiskers. Her nose was twitching, and her pupils were dilated. Her breath was short, sharp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea felt an odd pressure on her chest. A hot weight that constricted her lungs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was too close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their hands were still linked. The fizzling sensation below her skin had become sharp little jabs of electricity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Far, </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted to pull away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she didn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god, she didn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Mae smiled quietly at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is fun.” Mae whispered. Her voice was raspier then usual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah. Fun.” Bea whispered back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted so badly to pull away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted so </span>
  <em>
    <span>terribly</span>
  </em>
  <span> to never leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>...What am I doing?</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world crashed back into place so incredibly sharply that Bea felt whiplash. The colours were suddenly bright and sharp, the music loud enough to pound against her eardrums. The fizzling sensation in her skin became burning, and Mae was oh so clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>far too close.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She jerked back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the world crashed into place a </span>
  <em>
    <span>second</span>
  </em>
  <span> time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell had she been doing?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Margar-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stepped back. Her eyes were as distant and empty as craters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was statuesque.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea’s stomach lurched painfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh, would you look at that. We’ve been dancing for nearly ten minutes. You should really get back to your friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s voice was perfectly polite. Her smile would have seemed real, if she had stepped into the shop wearing it that first day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Bea knew what Mae’s smile looked like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to get back to dancing.” Mae went on, jerking a thumb behind her back. She stepped back with a final two-finger wave, and vanished into the crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Margaret, wait-” She tried to call, stepping forward and parting the crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stood in the middle of the dance floor, still as a statue, with the music blaring around her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What did I do?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Huh.</p><p>Okay, not really sure what to say. It doesn't really feel quite right to me yet, and I still haven't gotten to one of the scenes I had imagined - but, essentially... I think I did pretty good?</p><p>Oh, and I've been thinking of starting a side fic for this... AU, now, I guess. I want to right a ton of scenes from that long subway ride they had - I love to imagine Bea and Mae quietly going insane together on a ninety minute ride full of inconveniences, strangers, and no smoking. I'd like to write some more stuff like that chapter before last - just dialogue kinda stuff. Just, y'know... some fluffy, irrelevant stuff that I couldn't quite fit.</p><p>Leave a comment on your way out.</p><p>AtEoE; HotA,</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. THIS ISN'T AN ACTUAL CHAPTER I'M SORRY</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'm sorry if you were expecting a chapter below this. This is just an update/warning for some stuff.</p><p>If you're too busy or don't give enough of a shit (which, I mean, fair), then there's a TL;DR in the end notes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Okay. This shouldn't take long.</p><p> </p><p>Um.</p><p> </p><p>Okay, so, the long and short of it is, I won't be posting on this fic for a bit. See, last time I took a break, I was kinda... forced to. Broken laptop, and all. So I wasn't really able to warn you guys, or talk about it. And plus, what would I even say?</p><p> </p><p>Uh. Yeah.</p><p> </p><p>So, uh, you might've gathered this, but everything is kinda suckin' a little for me right now. I got the new laptop, which is dope, and I just got into a stable relationship, but...</p><p> </p><p>Well, I won't bore you with details you probably don't care about. And if you did care, you'd just pity me - and I don't need or want pity. No respect in pity.</p><p> </p><p>So I've been... writing. A lot. It's kinda how I deal with stuff when everything's sucking. The majority of that writing will probably never be published - most of it is half-though-out garbage not worth reading, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>And some smut.</p><p> </p><p>...Maybe a lot of smut.</p><p> </p><p>Don't judge please.</p><p> </p><p>But, since I can't really keep my writing... contained, it kinda just abandoned this fic. Moved on for a while.</p><p> </p><p>In the meantime, though, I'm not just idle - which means I can get to some less depressing news!</p><p> </p><p>See, I'm working on a one-shot. My only really fleshed-out one-shot, like... ever. And the only one I've written - and will probably ever write - for this fandom.</p><p> </p><p>I'm making a complete re-write of part four and the epilogue of Night in the Woods, from Mae's perspective. Well, most of it will be Mae's perspective - though I might actually end up re-writing it from Bea's at some point.</p><p> </p><p>Means I get to write some MaeBea action, some Lori stuff (always a favorite for me), some stuff with Germ - hey, I'll write something with Mr. Chazakov for the first time, too! So good times all 'round.</p><p> </p><p>...Michael says I'm smiling. I hadn't really noticed. Lemme check.</p><p> </p><p>Yep. He's right. Thanks, Michael.</p><p> </p><p>Hol' up.</p><p> </p><p>Okay, so I'm kinda making this impromptu - outta nowhere. I was writing that one-shot after a crappy day, and I was kinda just like - hey. I should probably warn the peeps who read my crap. So I'm writing this in my flat. And Michael is here - he just forced me to try a Hot Pocket for the first time.</p><p> </p><p>It's very... pizza-like.</p><p> </p><p>Heh.</p><p> </p><p>Right, anyway - one-shot. Re-writing the epilogue and part four. With an extra peppering of some MaeBea content on the side. Should be, like, 10k words at least. So that should be fun to read.</p><p> </p><p>This is gettin' kinda long. I should wrap it up.</p><p> </p><p>Uh - watch out for that one shot, and please be patient with me. I know I kinda left this on a cliffhanger, and I'm sorry - I really hadn't intended to, but</p><p> </p><p>Okay. Michael just pulled me away from the seat for ten minutes in the middle of that sentence. It was my turn to do the dishes.</p><p> </p><p>He says I have to turn it lose now. We're gonna go out to the tracks. Well, our version of the tracks.</p><p> </p><p>We're in the south, so we actually have railroads, and we're gonna go and hang out there. Nice and dark out - nearly midnight. Lots of fun. Have some hot chocolate, look at stars, that kinda thing.</p><p> </p><p>...Can you guess who I'm in a stable relationship with yet? Because that was definitely some obvious implications.</p><p> </p><p>He just flicked me in the head. I have to go now.</p><p> </p><p>Bye.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TL;DR: I won't be working on this for, like, a week probably - so I probably won't be updating for around 10 or 11 days. I'm workin' on some other stuff - actually, it's another NitW fic, so stay on the lookout for that.</p><p>Thanks for reading that page of garbage, if you did.</p><p>AtEoE; HotA,</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Edge of the World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mae was on the edge of the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay, no, that wasn’t quite true. She was on the bank of a river. Or, uhm. Shore? Bank, shore, same difference. It didn’t really matter. The edge of a river.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The night was still as death. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kinda felt like she was on the edge of the world, though. Like this was some desperately important gap, instead of the near-silent river it was. Like she was standing at the end of everything, just… waiting for thoughts to come. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thoughts weren’t coming easy, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d danced with Bea. Which had been… a lot of fun. While it lasted. Which wasn’t long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every time she got any closer to Bea, it felt like she just slipped right away again. It was… scary, kind of. She just kept running after this one girl, who had ensnared her in a beautiful trap, and every time she got any closer to getting her, she fell right behind again. Chasing Bea was like chasing a stormcloud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d managed to slip out of the party. Be alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being alone was something that Mae felt very conflicted on. It was… catharsis, in its own way. But it was also so very scary. Being alone was something she could barely stand sometimes. Especially when it was forced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She always had Gregg, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Well. Usually. But Gregg was starting to slip away from her too. Chasing ghosts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt very alone right now. She’s felt very alone ever since…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Since she started chasing after Bea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was starting to tear her apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was something about those eyes. Bea’s starry blue-and-black eyes. The way she stared, and glanced - the way the light in those eyes danced and glimmered, every now and again. It was beautiful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bea</span>
  </em>
  <span> was beautiful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt so very alone with Bea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a nice kinda way, though. Sometimes. Whenever the right moment came around, that lonely feeling was… very nice. Easy to get caught up in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like when they had eaten dinner together. Or went up to the Husker Bee Ballroom. Those nights when it felt like her and Bea were alone </span>
  <em>
    <span>together.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Those rare times when it felt like Bea didn’t just put up with her - those rare moments when it felt like her and Bea were actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was chasing ghosts, too. Just like Gregg. Wasn’t she?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was chasing some special side of Bea, that changed, shifted and glimmered - hid away at every possible moment. She was chasing a girl who didn’t want to be her friend. She was chasing someone who didn’t even call her </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mae.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was hunting some shadow, of a girl that she didn’t even really know. She was chasing the afterimage of this cold, rude, standoffish woman, who sneered at her like she was a child and clearly hated her. She was chasing some special side of that woman, some special </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she didn’t even really understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was she looking for from Bea?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...She didn’t know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wanted… she didn’t even know how to start thinking about it. She wanted the girl who she could be alone </span>
  <em>
    <span>with.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wanted the shadow that smiled at her, in that soft, tiny, reluctant way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like Bea so rarely did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae stared into the river.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The water lapped gently at the rocks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea kept slipping away. So… why was she even still chasing? Chasing someone who clearly didn’t want to be caught?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would Bea be happier if Mae just… left her alone?</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea was running through sheets of rain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is so fucking stupid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A part of her really couldn’t believe that she was doing this. So what. Mae had left. She wanted some alone time. Bea had fucked something up, clearly. Like she always fucked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Mae had run away. Who cared?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well. She supposed the answer was that Bea cared. Because she was running through sheets of rain and towering skyscrapers. Hell, in this weather, in this time, in this city, she could easily be mugged or something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she was chasing after Mae.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae, with those dancing eyes. Eyes that had flattened in that deadly, nauseating way before she ran.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now she was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea was alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...But she wasn’t, quite. Because she had the pouring, freezing rain to keep her company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rain and self loathing. The best companions for any run.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hand shielded her eyes from the thick drops of rain. They hit her shoulders and cheeks so hard it left little red spots, like hail. Each dagger of water was deadly sharp, and thick as a pencil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rain </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because the drowning loneliness didn’t hurt enough, she supposed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The skyscrapers towered over her. Her feet pounded against the ground as she sprinted. Each step caused a burst in the water - little shrapnel droplets splashing her soaked jeans and scraping against her arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why had they even come to this party.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Because these were the highlights of her life. The only time she could feel normal. The only time she could feel really </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> - or at least, start to. The only time she wasn’t alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t true anymore. Because of Mae.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who she was chasing. Right now. Meaning these thoughts weren’t necessary, or wanted. Now was not the time for reflection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A droplet of rain splashed into her eye. She recoiled, making a small, repressed, pained sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Margaret, I swear to God, you better be okay when I find you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae glanced up when she heard footsteps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she looked towards the sound, she certainly wasn’t ready for the image that met her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea. Staring at her with shimmering, reddened eyes. Mouth drawn into a thin line. Clothes soaking wet and clinging to her skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Margaret,” she said, in a voice that said she was either very annoyed or very tired. Or both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Bea,” Mae answered, voice barely audible. She cleared her throat, because her voice </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t supposed to sound like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a heavy pause.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...You. Uhm. Wanna sit down?” Mae said, gesturing towards the bench at the edge of the river. “You look… tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After another moment, Bea walked to the bench, and collapsed on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked. She’d never seen Bea sit down like that - like all the strength had left her bones. Which was how Mae pretty much always sat down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae, gingerly, sat down next to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a moment where it was clear neither of them knew what to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Bea?” Mae said, eventually. A question gnawing at her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Margaret.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you… like me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea blinked, and glanced at her. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like, do you want me around?” Mae said, scooting away from Bea slightly. “Because you, uhm. It kinda seems like you find me really annoying? Which is okay, but like, if you don’t want me around, I could just. Leave. ...If you want me to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea stared at her silently, for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae waited anxiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...It’s. You’re.” Bea fumbled for a decent way to phrase what she wanted to say. “...No. I don’t want you to leave. You. Uh. You’re fine. The way things are is… fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was another heavy pause.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...And you’re not, uh,” Bea said, clearly strangled by the silence. “You’re not annoying. It. I mean, you. You’re definitely a handful, and. Uhm.”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She fumbled for another moment - and then just groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what I mean,” she bit out, turning away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae didn’t. But that was okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea didn’t want her gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was… something. Not really what she wanted, but. Something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Okay,” she said, voice quiet and choked. She cleared her throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence that fell over them wasn’t quite easy. But it wasn’t awkward, either. It sat wrong, but settled right. Too heavy and choked with meaning to really be relaxed, but with no active malice. No fear. No negativity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The streetlights glittered in the distance.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Uhm. Hi.</p><p>I'm back?</p><p>It's apparently been exactly half a year since the last update. Which is... crazy. Uhm.</p><p>Okay. So. Sorry, I've kinda gotten out of the habit of making these. Uh. </p><p>When I decided I wanted to start writing this again, I kinda grappled between two options. Re-writing this entire fic, or continuing from where I left off. I would certainly enjoy either, and I know I'll definitely rewrite all of this one day. But. I dunno. I decided to continue it for now, but. Fill me in? Which would you prefer. If you'd tell me.</p><p>Oh, and also, I'm sorry I was gone so long. And that this is a bit of a short chapter. But uh. Better late than never?</p><p>AteoE; HotA</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Ask Her Out Already</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They left the party pretty quickly after that. Bea called Jackie during their subway trip to tell her that they’d left. Jackie didn’t seem incredibly surprised by this information, and told Bea to say goodbye to Mae for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jackie says goodbye,” Bea said, voice as tired as her eyes as she put her phone in her pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s the deal with you two, anyway?” Mae said, glancing at her. “Is she, like, a childhood friend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Bea said, melting into her chair with a sigh. Mae glanced at her, and did her best to smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tired?” she said, trying for an easygoing tone. Her own voice dripped with fatigue too, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been a tiring night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bea said, closing her eyes. “Tired. Very tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could sleep while we ride home,” Mae said, straightening in her chair. “I’ll make sure nobody steals your shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...You’re tired, too,” Bea said, opening her eyes and starting to straighten. “You should get a nap. I’ll keep watch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Mae said, shaking her head firmly. “You need sleep, Beebee. I can watch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bea was clearly tempted by the offer; but she still hesitated. “You don’t have to watch. I mean, I can do it. I know you don’t want to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be quiet,” Mae said, waving her off with. “Catch some zs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...If you’re sure,” Bea muttered, leaning back and closing her eyes again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Mae assured her, sitting up a bit further and getting ready to watch.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Bea snored.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not terribly. Nobody glanced over and shushed them, or noticed that Bea was even sleeping. But, nonetheless, Bea snored. Just a tiny little rumble. The only reason Mae even noticed it was because of her vigilant watch over Bea’s possessions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the most… interesting detail of Bea’s nap was how her face looked in sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Relaxed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae never saw Bea relaxed. And it hurt her somewhere deep in her stomach, seeing Bea’s face finally softened and calm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurt because there was such a stark difference between any normal expression on Bea’s face, and how she looked when she was relaxed. It took nearly three years off her features.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae crossed her legs, and bit her lip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I love you,” she muttered under her breath, not even looking at Bea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How would Bea even react? If she did know?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Mae wasn’t sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would Bea just… drop her? They were barely friends as-is. Bea so often treated her like a burden, or a child. Or both. Had Bea even formed any kind of attachment to her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want you to leave.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re not annoying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those were the best things Bea had ever said about her. And she had said them just today. They weren’t even really </span>
  <em>
    <span>positive</span>
  </em>
  <span> - just… neutral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was it selfish of Mae to want more?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why was Mae even in love with her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Because of those rare times that Bea smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. No, Bea wouldn’t just drop her. Not right away. Maybe. Probably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae could just… tell her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then what? Bea was straight, probably. She’d never expressed any interest in a relationship, anyway. Even if she were gay, she wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mae.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was so confusing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And stupid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t she just </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a crush on Bea? That would solve things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The surface of the subway’s window frosted over with condensation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae listened to the quiet sound of Bea’s snores.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she knew it, her consciousness was slipping away.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Bea woke up, it was to the unfamiliar sensation of something warm and fuzzy tucked beneath her neck and an uncomfortable cushion behind her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She muttered incoherently under her breath, already trying to slip back to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She forced herself to open her eyes, though. She was probably late for work or something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only after a solid three seconds of confusion that she remembered the events of that night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Right. Party. Subway. Nap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After that, without thinking, she glanced curiously toward the warm something that was next to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only when she saw a peacefully sleeping Mae tucked against her side that she began to silently panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mae. Who she had comforted last night, after running through the rain. Who had offered to finally leave her alone - an offer which she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>refused,</span>
  </em>
  <span> for some reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae - who was curled up next to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of Bea’s arms had, at some point, found its way around Mae’s hips. And Mae’s head - with those tiny, twitchy ears with a chunk taken from one - was tucked up into her collarbone, and under her jaw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a split second, she automatically shifted away from Mae, ready to untangle herself from Mae’s grip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, she froze - realizing quickly that doing so would almost certainly wake Mae up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Welp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She settled back into her seat, and let her eyes shut again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae was oddly warm. Like a little, fuzzy radiator. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae muttered something in her sleep. Bea - for a single, stupid moment - strained to make out what she was saying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced to the side - just to make sure that nobody had taken any of her belongings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then glanced right back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae wasn’t awake. Wasn’t conscious, ready to look at her with those soft, curious eyes. Wasn’t making any quips. Wasn’t pushing Bea to say something rude or stupid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Bea didn’t have to do anything. To say anything. There were no expectations.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was in her own little pocket dimension, away from the world. Just for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...A month ago, this would’ve been terrifying.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae’s hand wrapped around the ice-cold doorknob to the attic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped into the comforting draftiness of her room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mom and Dad were super awesome, for letting her have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>attic</span>
  </em>
  <span> as her room. Not that there was anywhere else for her to sleep, but still. Totally dope. Even Gregg had thought it was awesome, when they were younger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat, gingerly, on her bed - and decided to take a risk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her laptop screen filtered out a blinding white light, and cast long shadows on the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Gregg?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She only had to wait a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>mae</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled, softly and wistfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>How are you, partner in crime?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>good</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>You and Angus back together yet?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>we're</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>talking</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Awesome!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>eh</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>its not easy</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>but</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>id do anything to get him back</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>so</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Thats really sweet, dude</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Im happy you 2 are working it out</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>yea</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>me 2</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>what about u? wassup with my favorite partner in crime?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Me and Bea went 2 a party!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>oh dang rly?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>RLY!!!!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>It was pretty great</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I had to do the stony face thing</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>o yea i almost forgot abt that</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>that was super creepy duder</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>But! I also got to dance with Bea</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And she said Im not annoying!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Its not everything I want, but its a start</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And Im counting it as a win</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>...so r u stil denying your gay for her</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Oh. Right</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Uh</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>OK dude I have such a massive crush you have no idea</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>called it</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>But. Like. Im pretty sure shes straight</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>And even if she wasnt</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Nobody wants to date me</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Especially not her</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>hey dude</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yeah?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>u remember when i was crushing on angus?</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yeah?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>i said all those things 2</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>but when i asked him out</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>he said yes</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>and the only reason i ever had the courage was because u and casey supported me</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>so i say</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>fuck your dumb reasons</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>and ask her ass out!!</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>But like</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>What if she says no?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>then u dont go out</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>but if she really gives a shit abt u</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>your friendship will survive it</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I missed you, Gregg.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>missed u 2 dork</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>i gotta sleep. me and angus are gonna have dinner and talk things out somemore in the morning so i need to be nice and sleeped out</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>but dude. ask her out already</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with that - Gregg was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mae sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She almost hadn’t realized how much she’d missed Gregg. His relentless optimism and bright spirits. She hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gregg, before he went off chasing Casey’s ghost. He hadn’t been the same without Angus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he was back. Still a little withdrawn - but back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was good. Because Mae </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> his support with this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything with Bea was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>scary</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and Gregg was… kinda all she had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ask her out already.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How was it, that Gregg could take this super complicated situation and make it so… simple?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just… ask her out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even the idea was nearly unthinkable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was tired. Delirious. She’d be able to think more clearly in the morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She collapsed on her bed - and barely had the time to think before she was drifting to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gregg closed his laptop - and sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was glad that he’d gotten to talk to Mae again. They’d been so distant lately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because of his Casey investigation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had gone nowhere. Of course. Whatever fuckers had done it had covered their tracks well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe… maybe he was starting on the wrong end of this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he didn’t have to look on their end of this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe, instead, he should look on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Casey’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...But he needed support on this. He needed Angus. He needed Mae. And hell, with the way things were going - maybe he was going to have Bea in on this, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...Hopefully she didn’t hold the whole ‘being threatened with a knife’ thing against him.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dark was draped like a blanket, over everything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The cold nipped at Casey’s nose.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A single, strong strike lit a match beneath his thumb. He gingerly let the flame drift over the end of his cigarette.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smoke filtered from his nostrils into the black.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Hartley.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He glanced up - and did his best to give her a cheeky smile. “Officer Molly.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know it’s illegal to be out here,” she said, sounding very tired with him. “Especially at this time of night.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Officer, have you ever gotten the feeling that… something is sleeping right below you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Molly raised an eyebrow. “No.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Its snores rattled me,” Casey muttered quietly, taking another drag from his cigarette.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Is that a marijauna cigarette, Hartley?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Casey laughed quietly. “No, officer. Just a normal one.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get home, Hartley.” Molly gave him a stern look. “It’s not safe out here.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘And it is safe back home?’</span>
  <em>
    <span> he thought but didn’t say. Instead, he simply stood, and stomped out his cigarette, before silently walking towards his place.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Molly’s eyes drilled into his back as he left.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Am here. With chapter.</p><p>So, uh, this is basically to remind all ya'll about anything you might've forgotten about while I was on hiatus. Flashbacks, the Gregg investigation, Casey plot, etc. Also just some usual fluffy MaeBea because I'm predictable.</p><p>I'm gonna keep going with this story until it's done. For now. When I'm finished, I'll start re-writing some of it. Or all of it. I don't know if I'll publish any of that - depends on how I feel about it, and how big the edits are.</p><p>I'm just happy to be back to this story. </p><p>AtEoE; HotA,</p><p>-Howard R.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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